Heaven And Hell
by Enigmatic Ellie
Summary: Sequel to THE QUEST. The election is over and the future has never been so uncertain.
1. A Touch of Destiny

**Title**: **HEAVEN AND HELL, _A Touch of Destiny _**(Chapter One)   
**Authors: Enigmatic Ellie and Westwinger247**   
**Webpage: http://wing_nuts.tripod.com**   
**Notes**: _This is the sequel to THE QUEST. Thanks to those of you who followed us from one series to the next._

_Presidential Residence_   
_Dec. 15, 9 p.m._

Bartlet sat in his private study and drummed his fingers on the desk. The TV in the corner was turned down, but he could see the replay of his press conference that had ended half and hour earlier in the East Room. News agencies were scouring the District to speak with congressmen to get their spin in the day's historic vote. Most of the staff had departed the White House not long after the press conference ended. The Chairman of the DNC had graciously gifted to them the use of his limousine for the evening and reserved a Georgetown pub for their private celebration--no press allowed. Top campaign staffers were now descending on F. Scott's Pub for the first evening of relaxation many had experience in a year. 

Leo was under the care of Mallory, who refused to let him stay even a minute after the Press Conference stating he had spent too much time in the building that day already. That his resistance was short-lived spoke to how ill the man truly had been not long ago. 

Bartlet sighed and placed his glasses on his nose. He read the number Charlie had retrieved for him. He could have had Debbie place the call--she was still downstairs--and patch it through for him as she requested, but he wanted no record of this call. His pride was fatally wounded and that was something he could never forget. He knew he should be speaking to someone else, but some part of him felt this call was the start of the absolution process. 

The President dialed the number--his heart beating loudly in his ears. The trembles he felt in his hands had nothing to do with his disease and everything to do with his feelings of shame. After the third ring, the phone was answered. 

"Hello," she answered, sounding as though she had received many phone calls that day and was expecting yet another--even at this hour. 

"Ah, A…," the President began then paused. 

He was not completely sure of the reasoning behind this call and had to remind himself the woman was not currently among his fans. 

"Mrs. Lyman," Bartlet started again. "This is Jed Bartlet." 

"Yes," Josh's mother replied in a guarded tone. 

"I needed to speak with you," Bartlet said. 

The President paused, considering how best to approach this conversation. In his silence, Anna Lyman's blood ran cold. 

"Oh my god," Anna gasped. "Has something happened? Is Joshua all right?" 

"What? No," Bartlet responded quickly. "I mean, yes, he's all right. Everything is fine. At least, as far as I know, and he just left the office a few minutes ago so I have no reason to think otherwise. I was just… I wanted to speak to you. I'm sorry if I alarmed you." 

"I'm sure you didn't mean to," she said relieved. "I worry sometimes. He's all I have, and I worry. He says I don't need to, but I have ample evidence that says otherwise." 

"You're a good mother," Bartlet said understandingly. "I get awakened at night from time-to-time with the business of state, but my first instinct is always the same: Where are my girls and are they all right? The parental curse, I suppose." 

"Yes, I suppose," she agreed. "If Joshua is fine, then why are you calling? Is this because of what that newspaper printed?" 

"Not precisely," Bartlet hedged. "Although, I was surprised to learn that I did not have your vote." 

"No," she replied crisply. "You did not." 

"May I ask why?" 

"You may." 

Bartlet suppressed a smirk. He reminded himself that this was a feisty woman who spent more than half of her life married to a fiery litigator. Her son's personality was surely not sculpted by just one of his parents. 

"It doesn't matter," Bartlet retreated. "You are entitled to your vote. While I would have enjoyed your support, I see no need to invade your right to hold me in contempt. You're certainly not alone." 

"I'm not surprised," she replied, though there was less edge in her voice, the President noted. "If you're not scolding me for my lack of support, may I ask why you are calling?" 

"I wanted to ask you… about Josh," Bartlet said. "I've come to understand that maybe I don't know as much as I thought I did about my staff and about myself. It's been quite a rollercoaster around here for sometime and… I don't know. I feel like I'm at square one in some ways. I was thinking about that and the election—the House vote I mean—and I keep coming back to what Josh did as soon as we won." 

"What was that?" 

"He called you," Bartlet informed her. "You didn't know that? You were his first call. He didn't call those select media people who report his thoughts attributed to the secret and nebulous '_administration officials_.' Didn't call the legislators who cast their votes; he didn't call the powerful forces I don't fully comprehend that made today's result possible. No, his first call was to you. I thought that was a very telling thing for him to do." 

"Why?" Anna asked, feeling immensely flattered that her son had thought of her first in the midst of his greatest professional triumph. 

"Because Josh until very recently I was sure that just was just a politician," Bartlet said. "I thought he was one first and foremost, but it turns out he's not. Oh, don't get me wrong. He's professional and dedicated--I've been reminded of that several times lately and chose to ignore it--but I think somewhere during this last year, I forgot he was a person as well--someone's son and a friend. I forgot that about several people on some level for a little while." 

"That's understandable," Anna reasoned. "Your job is to look out for the country as a whole, not the welfare of specific individuals every moment. The captain looks out for the ship. The crew looks out for each other." 

Bartlet paused and pondered her words. They were truer than she probably realized. 

"It's funny you should offer a sea analogy," Bartlet chuckled, looking at the small plaque on the corner of his desk. "There's this saying, a small prayer if you will, that I need to remind myself of daily. If you'll permit me, '_Oh Lord, your sea is so great and my boat is so small_.' I think that kind of says it all: Life is difficult; it's supposed to be. But we're not out there alone." 

Anna chuckled softly. 

"Did I miss something?" Bartlet asked, not seeing humor in his profound statement. 

"No," she said mildly. "I just realized why Joshua says… Oh, never mind. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have." 

"That's all right," the President said. "What does Joshua say? Do you know that's the only time I think I've called him by his actual name." 

"So few do," Anna sighed. "He stuck his toes in around age three and demanded to be called Josh. I rarely oblige. Joshua is a beautiful name." 

"You chose it?" 

"Actually, no," Anna replied. "My husband, Noah, was determined that if we had a boy that his name would be Jacob. I opposed it. Jacob's become Jake's, and Jake is the name of a man who carries knives and hangs out in a bar. No, if I had a son his name was going to be David." 

"So Joshua was a compromise?" 

"Not exactly," Anna continued. "Noah wasn't much for compromising. He was more apt to beg for forgiveness than for permission. Two months before the baby was due, my parents had given us a gift for the baby: a silver bowl that had been my grandfather's. To cement his name choice, Noah took it without my permission and had it engraved with the initials 'JL' about a week before the baby was due." 

"There was some discussion in the Lyman household about that, I presume," Bartlet surmised. 

"I threw the bowl at him and he got a bump on his head," Anna recalled lovingly. "I was supposed to call a local jeweler about having it fixed the day I went into labor. Noah was in court and wasn't there when the baby was born. He came later with our daughter to the hospital visit us--a human shield." 

"Smart man," Bartlet chuckled. 

"That's one way to look at it," Anna replied recalling how angry she was at the time. "I was prepared to give Noah a tongue-lashing, but Joanie was there. She asked me what the baby's name was—she was a little disappointed; she wanted a sister. I told her that we didn't know the baby's name yet. I glared at Noah so he understood what I meant; he was about to plead his case when Joanie looked at the baby and said, '_I think his name is Joshua_.' I looked at my little boy and decided she was right. It just seemed to fit. Oh, I'm sorry. I don't know why I rambled on like that." 

"It's quite all right," Bartlet said warmly. "It's a wonderful story. Josh must appreciate it." 

"He doesn't know," Anna informed him. "I don't think I've ever told anyone about that. Joshua certainly never asked." 

"You'll have to tell him someday," Bartlet said. "When he has children, that would be something nice to pass on." 

"I suppose," Anna said. "We don't speak of his sister often." 

"I understand," Bartlet said then paused. "No, actually, I don't. Not really. I've never lost a child. I can't imagine it. I've lost my father and some friends. I've ordered men into harm's way that did not return, but I've never had to face that. I hope I never do. You, and people like you, amaze me that you are able to go on after such a loss. That's one thing that puzzles me about Josh. He has not had it very easy at times, but he never gives in. It seems as though he never seriously contemplates giving up on anything. I stand in awe of it from time to time." 

"You do sound like his father," Anna said. "That's what I meant earlier when I laughed. Josh says that you are nothing like his father, yet you greatly remind him of Noah once in a while. His loyalty to Leo is something no one could ever shake because of who Leo is as well as Leo's relationship with Noah. But I'm sure you realize, Mr. President, that you are possibly the only other person on the planet to whom Joshua grants that level of loyalty. When he lost his father, I thought Joshua would be lost. But he had Leo and he had you--two pillars holding up the universe that his father once had. I'm sorry for the brusque way I spoke to you earlier. Joshua's professional life is not mine to judge. I am protective of my son, but I have no business venting my frustration on you about circumstances I do not understand. I apologize." 

"Thank you, but none is needed," Bartlet said. "I should be the one to thank you for giving me this time. I appreciate it." 

"You're most welcome, Mr. President," Anna said. "You may not have had my support during the election, but you have something much more valuable. You have my son and his support. I hope you realize that is more important than a tick mark on a ballot." 

"Yes, I certainly do," Bartlet said solemnly. 

***************** 

_F. Scott's_   
_Georgetown_   
_9:30 p.m._

The John Eagleston, the CNN talent, stood in the frosty air amid the crowd of photographers and other media types. They were barred from entering the establishment by the proprietor. The pub was officially closed for a private party. Eagleston squinted through the glare of street lights and camera lights as figures ducked into the brick building without saying a word. Most were able to do so without being recognized. However, a limousine that parked at the curb disgorged a group of individuals to his left. The first one out couldn't avoid the spotlight--even if she wanted to. Her statuesque figure was known to all in the news business in Washington. Eagleston cleared his throat, signaled his cameraman and keyed his mike hot so the producer would throw the live feed to him 

"CJ," Eagleston said, latching onto her arm and tugging her into his pool of light. "I'm here with CJ Cregg, press secretary for President Bartlet. Good evening, CJ." 

"John," she smiled widely. "So surprising to see you here." 

"Well, I'm sure you realize that there is nothing bigger in this country right now than today's vote," the reporter began. "It was like the closing scene to a movie." 

"With a damn good looking cast, I might add," CJ joked and straightened her shoulders. 

"You'd certainly be nominated for a supporting role," Eagleston said. "Tell me what are the President's plans for this evening?" 

"President Bartlet is home celebrating with his wife," CJ said. "They've had very little time to even talk about the weather in the last few weeks. I know that several of the President's daughters had dinner with them this evening. Now the First Family is looking forward to a nice, quiet evening without the staff invading their private space." 

"I see," Eagleston nodded. "And what of the staff's plans?" 

"Well, we're here for a while," she said gesturing to the building behind her. "We're going to unwind and those that have families who still speaking with them plan to go home and sleep in their own beds for a change. As you can see, there are quite a lot of us here. A few of our top tacticians for the vote just snuck in behind me. That would be Sam Seaborn and Josh Lyman. Their immediate plans are to sit down, relax and eat food that is bad for them and talk about talk about the World Series." 

"The World Series was over two months ago," Eagleston pointed out. 

"Yeah, but Josh never got the chance to properly crow about his Mets winning," CJ chuckled. "Normally, we'd put a gag order on him but after today he gets a few minutes to hear his own voice." 

"It has been a protracted affair," Eagleston agreed. "How is the staff handling the knowledge that it's over?" 

"We've been through a lot in the last six weeks or so," CJ continued. "But we recognize that we're not the only ones. Governor Ritchie's people were working hard for their candidate; the legislators who voted today put lots of thought and discussion into this vote and finally the American people--the real winners today--showed amazing patience and faith in their government to let the process take place. I think realizing that, we all feel pretty good right now... even if it is 20 degrees out here." 

"It is cold," Eagleston agreed. "You just mentioned some of your colleagues, Sam Seaborn and Joshua Lyman. They have been called the principal architects of today's vote. Talk to me about that." 

"Well, it was a team effort," CJ said. "Sam was the primary spokesperson for the campaign staff during the last seven days or so. Josh stepped into Leo McGarry's shoes after he was sidelined with walking pneumonia--he's home arguing with his daughter that he can return to work any hour now, by the way. This fell heavily on Josh's shoulders to orchestrate behind the scenes, but it's what he does." 

"And from today's surprising results, it appears he does it well," Eagleston offered. 

"He's the political equivalent of James Bond with a backpack," CJ said. "We've all worked so hard for so long and now that it's done, some part of us can't believe it. Josh is still in a fog about the vote." 

"Josh is not known for being bashful," Eagleston continued, hoping to get a hook in the rumor that Josh was on his way out of the administration. "What should we infer from the fact that he hasn't stepped in front of a camera yet?" 

"I'd infer that he can't be photographed," CJ quipped, sidestepping the question. "I've worked with the guy closely for years and I'm not sure he casts a reflection. He's a political myth. The only way to stop him is to cut off his head and drive a stake into his heart. Right now he's on phone talking to our congressional liaison folks about a commerce bill; we're going to try to explain to him what a night off means. It won't be easy." 

Eagleston chuckled. His producer saw the ploy fail and asked him to change subjects. 

"We have some tape we're going to roll here in a second," Eagleston said. "It's of the President as he entered the East Room a few hours ago. Just before taking the podium, he said something to you that you evidently found humorous. What was that?" 

CJ thought back. She recalled the statement and decided it was innocuous enough. 

"This was just after that deafening applause?" 

Eagleston nodded. 

"Yeah, he thanked me then because there was so much cheering, he said," CJ continued, " '_Not bad for a guy who's just been told he's out of a job in four years_." 

**************** _Madison, Wisconsin_   
_The Moss Condo_

Donna sat on the floor beside the sofa where her father lay. His breathing was labored still. The news from the doctors that morning was better. The respiratory infection that had delayed her father's surgery was abating. They were scheduled to operate on his blocked arteries on January 2, after he was finished with the antibiotics and the surgeon was convinced Artemis Moss had regained most of his strength. 

They were watching CNN, as they had almost around the clock for the last week at Donna's insistence. She had explained the proceedings in the House to her parents in between getting her father lunch and making her mother sit down and eat as well. They were as gripped by the vote as Donna. Her father said for once he found politics entertaining. 

"She's an awfully tall girl, isn't she," he remarked as CJ departed from her interview. 

"Yes," Donna sighed. _Leave it to my father to notice her height and not the way she handled the interview._

"She's a college woman," he nodded redeeming himself. "You can tell from the way she let that twerp think he was getting something out of her that he wasn't suppose to know. I like her." 

"She's very smart," Donna said. "They all are." 

"The grumpy one too?" he asked. 

"Travis," Patricia, her mother, offered. 

"Toby," Donna corrected. 

Her mother had always an awful time keeping names straight. It was a wonder that she'd given her children such unconventional monikers--though there were times when Donna suspected she had done so in order to remember them. 

"Is he grouchy or just grouchy looking?" her father asked. "That kind of scowling he does is either from being disappointed the world isn't as smart as he is or jealousy that he can't keep up." 

"It's neither," Donna explained, scanning the replay of tapes for the person she wanted to see. "Toby just spends a lot of energy trying to make things better so he doesn't have the energy to smile all that often. He does sometimes." 

"I'm sure Tommy has a nice smile," Patricia said. 

"Toby," Donna corrected unconsciously as she stared closely at the screen. 

"Is he one of those like your man Mr. Lyman," Artemis asked. 

"One of what?" 

"You know," Artemis said. "I knew one of them once..." 

"Daddy," Donna cut him off. "Don't call him a Jew. I mean, yes, he's Jewish--so is Toby--but that doesn't mean..." 

"I wasn't going to say that," her father scolded. "What's the matter with you, girl? I meant New England people. Josh there, your boss, he's from New England, right?" 

"Yes," Donna said, embarrassed by her assumption. 

"Well, now, I was going to say that I've known a few of them and they tend to be all squared away," Artemis said. "When I was in the Service, the smartest guy in my unit was from Massachusetts. And President Bartlet, he's from New Hampshire. Notre Dame man, right? Well, I read that Josh went to Harvard and Yale. That Seaburg..." 

"Seaborn," Donna said. "Sam Seaborn. He's from California." 

"California?" Art replied with raised eyebrows. "Yeah, he seemed kind of..... fluffy. Anyway, I was wondering where this Toby is from." 

"New York," Donna said. 

"Oh," her father scowled. "I knew some of them, too. Now that you mention it, he looks like he's from New York. But he's a good fella you say?" 

"Very good," Donna smirked. 

"I'm getting the mail," her mother sighed not wanting to her her husband's discourse on why those not from Wisconsin or Minnesota lacked something. "It just arrived. If I've won the publisher's sweepstakes, I'm not coming back." 

"Good for you, woman," Artemis answered amicably. "I have to say that most politicians I've known are uptight and untrustworthy." 

"Art," his wife scolded from the kitchen were she shorted the mail recently dropped through the slot. "These are Donnatella's friends. They take care of her and they're good people. I'm getting the mail. It just arrived. If I've won the publisher's sweepstakes, I'm not coming back." 

"I voted for the man, didn't I?" he countered. 

"You did?" Donna asked. "I thought you said...." 

"I did say," her father replied in a taciturn manner. "I also had a chat with your man there, Josh. He looked me square in the eye when he spoke to me and let me know in no uncertain terms what he thought. I like that--even if he does have a college mouth." 

"The President likes his staff to be frank with him," she said. 

She noted her father's thin smile. He still wasn't entirely convinced that she knew the President--or rather that he knew her. Pat returned proclaiming there were more Christmas cards than bills for once. She also had a slim package addressed for her husband. 

"What's this?" he asked reading the plain brown wrapper. "From The White House? For me? Donna?" 

"I don't know anything about this," she said, eagerly peering at the box. 

It was not more than two inches thick and roughly six inches square. The handwriting on the label looked familiar. Her father fumbled with the edges; Donna helped him as his fingers were not as nimble due to his medications. They pried open the box, which turned out to be more of a protective wrapping of cardboard pieces. Inside was a simple 5 x 7 picture frame; the picture was of two people sitting on a bench at a farm in New Hampshire. The man had his arm around the woman's shoulders and was smiling much like the woman. 

"Donna," her father gasped. "That's you. And that's the President, isn't it?" 

"Uh huh," Donna smiled, recalling the Fourth of July weekend when she joined the staff for the President's visit home. "That was taken the summer before last. That's the President's farm." 

"Will you look at that," her father marveled staring at the picture. "What does say in your hands?" 

"It's from Josh," Donna said, keeping her voice as level as possible. "He got this from the White House's official photographer. He wanted you to have it so.... So that.." 

"Give that here if it's addressed to me," Artemis said. Donna handed him the note.   


_Dear Mr. Moss,_

_Thought you might like this picture. Your daughter is an important part of the work we do here. We didn't want you to get the idea that she can leave us for ever and we'd never notice. Her place is with her family now, but let her know that she is still needed here._

_Respectfully,_   
_Josh Lyman_

"Patricia," her father said, his voice husky as though he was suddenly choked up. "Put this in my bag." 

"You don't want to put it on the mantel?" his wife asked. 

"I'm taking it with me when I go to that damn hospital," Art said. "I want that with me. And I want those doctors and nurses to know that my little girl knows the President." 

***************** _F. Scott's_   
_Georgetown_   
_11 p.m._

CJ made her way from the bar to the back of the room. She shook as she mused on what she had seen of the coverage of the day's events on the TV over the bar. 

She joined Josh at the table in the back; they had dined on the worlds worst quesadias and buffalo wings--with a side of stale pretzels. Ed was allegedly ordering Chinese food to make up for the dismal meal and was looking for someone to act as a bulldozer to push the press aside out front to clear a path for the deliver guy. CJ reported this as she took a seat with Josh, who was waiting for Toby to return with their beer. 

Josh had finally been pried away from his cellphone and was now going to partake in the celebration--so long as he could keep his eyes open. The thought that he could sleep in the next day without worrying about 538 legislators was very alluring. Not that he wasn't thinking about other things that he wanted those same legislators to agree upon in the coming year; he had already begun drumming up some support for the prescription drug bill the White House was seeking when Sam had taken the battery out of his phone. He promised to give it back, but only after they finished the first round as a group. CJ and Sam had a head start on Josh and Toby and were ordering them to catch up quickly. 

"I've been doing this job for more than four years now, and it is official," CJ said. "I do not understand the press. They're bringing up the MS thing and now its giving the President a martyr like quality. Tell me something, _Oh Great One_, what is news?" 

Josh smirked at the title. She was half drunk; he could tell by the redness of her cheeks and the grin she wore when giving him the chiding compliment. He thought for a moment then answered. 

"About eight years ago I was at the Four Seasons waiting for Sam," Josh said. "He was in town for something and was running late to meet me. So I'm there by myself when this guy on my right starts talking, rambling on. After a minute or so, I realized that he's speaking to me. So I start listening." 

"What was he saying?" CJ asked. 

Josh wasn't a storyteller by nature and practice. He often knew more than was wise and keeping his mouth shut was normally the most prudent course of action. CJ knew he didn't impart anecdotes often. She was intrigued. 

"He said in July 1961 a White House correspondent came up to him right there in the Four Seasons and said: I have information that the President's got a mistress--maybe two," Josh explained. "My guy responds: The President works 15 hours a day, seven days a week; if he's got the energy to have an affair after that, who the hell cares?" 

CJ guffawed and shook her head. She patted Josh on the arm grateful for the offering. 

"Is that true?" she asked, wondering if he was telling her a tale. "Who was the guy?" 

"One of your predecessors," Josh answered. "Pierre Salinger, Kennedy's Press Secretary. And he didn't stop there. He tells me that he gave the 1960s answer that night, but that it would never work again. He was wrong." 

"How do you mean?" 

"We just got the majority of the country to give that answer to the other half," Josh said. "_The President works the most grueling job in the country; he does it every day. Oh, by the way, he's got MS, too. Who the hell cares? _I was just thinking of the gall, the guile, it took for Salinger to say that back then. That's when I realized, nothing's ever changed in this town; not really. We got a few hundred million people--and 28 state delegations--to accept the answer "_who the hell cares?_' and pay the President's health no attention." 

"That's....," CJ paused and considered the offering. "I don't know what to say to that." 

"Try nothing," Josh shrugged as he grabbed a handful of peanuts from the dish on the table. "It just popped into my head when you sat down. It means nothing. Besides, it was the right answer. The President's health isn't an issue. Even under anesthesia, I'd trust his judgment for the country compared to the competition." 

"Okay, Campaign Boy," CJ said, putting her hand over his mouth to cease the rhetoric. "We already won, and I was on your side from the beginning to no more shop talk for the night." 

Toby then returned with Sam and Larry in tow. The staff had decided this night the spotlight belonged to Congress. They had voted their conscience--some would be feeling heat from their party that night. The White House had issued a statement; the President had taken some questions in the east room just after 8 p.m. and then the party started. There was still press camped outside the private party, but the evening was a chance for the staff to finally relax after weeks spent walking on egg shells. There were close to 100 people in the dimly lit lounge. 

"Everyone, listen up," CJ said, standing and stretching to her full height. "We've been too serious for too long. That ends now. So, now we come to the moment no one could have predicted or prepared for: The Toby Zielger impersonation contest. Who's first?" 

Toby stood along the wall, holding his and Josh's beer bottles, and looked honestly stunned by the pronouncement. But that expression was soon eclipsed by his reaction to the first taker in the game. 

"Oh, me! Me!" Larry shouted as he jumped from his seat and cleared his throat. He furrowed his brow, scowled then began. "That's it! All of you; on your knees, staring up at me; I want to see abject terror on your faces in light of your foolishly anticipating that we could be victorious. Premature celebration of victory is the leading cause of...." 

Larry paused and the laughter around him swelled and over took his words. 

"Damn," he shook his head as he relented. "I lost it. I had something. Honest." 

"I've never said....," Toby began. 

"It's what you look like, though," Larry laughed. 

Josh left the table to join Toby sitting on the stools beside the wall. Josh shook his head and mumbled to Toby about taking the abuse graciously because it was ultimately a compliment. 

"How do you figure that?" Toby asked. "They're not making fun of you." 

"That's what I meant," Josh nodded. "It's a compliment to me. I've been in charge for two weeks, and they think you're the ogre." 

"I bought you that beer," Toby said. 

"With my money," Josh reminded him. "Sam! Your turn. End this stupid game so Toby can pick up his dignity off the floor." 

Sam grinned anxiously. Sam did masterful impressions of most of the staff--including CJ. His astounding talent as a mimic served him well in writing speeches. He could crawl into the skin of the person and feel the words being spoken. 

Sam thought for a moment then nodded to Toby respectfully before beginning. 

"Sam!" Sam shouted, hitting the pitch and intonation of Toby's voice soundly. He added in the frustrated hand and arm gestures expertly as he continued. "Tell me! Tell me, because I'm at a loss here. Are you conscious when you type? I mean, are you actively controlling your fingers are do you just use The Force?" 

"Oh, we have a winner," CJ grinned and applauded. 

"Good," Toby barked. "Winner buys me a scotch. Go." 

Sam nodded graciously and bowed to Toby as he accepted his applause. 

"Better pace yourself," CJ warned Toby. "The Missus might not like you staggering home in a shameful state." 

"Well, she need not worry," Toby said, draining his bottle. "I never stagger." 

"Shut up," Josh shook his head. "I was told upon leaving the office that the ego capacity in this place was to stay as low as possible this evening. That means everyone needs to..." 

Josh paused to yawn then searched his memory for his train of thought and came up empty. 

"What the hell was I talking about?" he asked. "Oh man, I didn't think it was possible to be this tired and this awake at the same time." 

Josh yawned again and stretched the muscles through his shoulders. It didn't feel possible that it was over. That night in November when there was no result had lasted six weeks and it was finally over. He could go home, to his apartment, to his bed. He looked across the room and caught Amy's eye. She nodded to him and raised her glass in salute. Josh nodded back and shook his head. Toby caught the interaction. 

"Josh, what are you doing?" he asked. "This thing with Amy. What is it?" 

"Hell if I know," Josh shrugged and took a pull on his beer. 

"That's not an answer," Toby said. "I think, by now, we can talk. You and me. We've been through quite a bit and I would hope you know you can trust me. You have some choices to make, my friend. Now is not the time for...." 

"Toby," Josh cut him off. "I'm allowed to have a life. What I do with it is my choice." 

"So I'm saying make one," Toby explained. "Partaking in what is convenient is not a choice." 

"That's close to the line," Josh told him, his tone getting serious. 

"I don't mean to insult," Toby said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I like Amy. I know you have a thing about her, but there are things and there are _things_. Amy Gardner is the kind of person everyone in this room would probably guess you should end up with; and maybe you will. I just... A lot has just happened and I think you'd be a fool getting wrapped up in something that in another week or three you realize was just euphoria over a political coup; you are equals, but I suspect there is some part of you that.... She'd never be able to get close to it because you'd never let her. The running battle between the two of you would always be there in between. It's a question of agendas, priorities and trust. Take that as you like and feel free to factor in the knowledge that I still wear my wedding ring though I have been divorced nearly as long as I've held my current job." 

Josh nodded. He wasn't sure what Toby was talking about specifically or why. Amy and he were a good match, Josh felt. They had similar interests and comparable educational achievements; they had history and were attracted to each other. Did anything else matter? 

"Trust me, Toby," Josh said, trying to end the discussion. "I know what I'm doing." 

"I hope to god that's true," Toby said. "Sometimes choices and burdens are placed on us that remove our choices--or at least seem to." 

"What are you talking about now?" Josh asked. "I feel like we've switched subjects." 

"Maybe we have," Toby said. "Or maybe its jealousy--but I'll deny it if you repeat it. You've got a gift, Josh. Whether you were born with it or you earned it, I don't know. I have abilities and talents; there are things I can do very well. But you... Somehow, it seems different. You have what my grandfather called a touch of destiny." 

"My fate is nothing to envy," Josh grumbled taking another sip of beer. 

"I didn't mean it like that," Toby said. "In the big picture of your life, there is a path. I've read your bio in a few magazines lately. It's quite remarkable when I forget that I know you--which is something I'd like to do from time to time, just so you know. I gotta say, it's as though everything beyond your control in your life somehow has opened a door or given you something that brought you to that next place for the next big thing. I don't mean to take away from your accomplishments. It's just remarkable. I think the same thing of the President; you're very different people and I suppose in a sane world you'd never have crossed paths. But that's off topic. You have done things that.... I can do many, many things well--things that you could never do--and yet I watch you and I find myself wondering.... I don't know if I could do the things that you do." 

"Want to know a secret?" Josh said. "I have no idea what I did. I think most of what you're talking about is just dumb luck. Honestly, Toby, I have no idea why some of these things come together. I'd like to say its skill, but I know it's not. It's hard work and the law of averages. Nothing more." 

Toby chuckled and shook his head. He didn't believe that entirely; at least, he knew it was not completely true. 

"I've got a secret for you then," Toby said, grabbing a pretzel from the basket beside his elbow. "We all know that. That's why it's your gift and that's the touch of destiny. You do a lot of little things along the way--stuff happens around you--and that comes together in the end as a good thing probably more often than it should. That's either by design--subconscious or otherwise--or some kind of unfathomable luck." 

Toby then paused and lit his cigar. It looked and tasted Cuban; the band on it didn't say Cuban, but only Fidel himself would know the truth. He puffed on it for a moment before continuing. 

"Either way, I like being in the aura of it, and you, my friend, are the center of it," Toby said. "But I don't think it's just luck. It can't be. By the virtue of what luck is, one regular kind of person can't have it this much. It might not make sense to you; you probably don't even think about it. But I'd lay my next year of pay checks that what happened today could happen again so long as you were on the team. It's a combination: the right team, the right tools. You're one of those natural catalysts and stuff comes together around you. Because of that, there is probably very little--politically--that you can't do." 

Josh said nothing. He wasn't sure how this had anything to do with Amy--if anything at all--and he wasn't sure he wanted to know if it did. Toby's thoughts were likely as hazy as the smoke coming from his cigar. It had been a long campaign for all of them. Toby was no exception. 

"I mean it," Toby said again. "We couldn't have done this without you. I told the President that, too." 

"Toby," Josh sighed. He did not want to have this discussion. 

"I don't know anything about what is going on between the both of you," Toby said. "But whatever it is, it's small and unimportant. Know how I know that? Because no one can figure out what it is, least of all you. I would hate to see you go because of it--and if you repeat that to anyone, I will sue you for defamation of character." 

"We're suing someone already?" Sam said anxiously as he placed Toby's scotch on the table. "Who? Why?" 

"No one," Josh said, closing the subject. "Nothing. You wouldn't believe it." 

"Sure I would," Sam said. 

"Toby likes having me around," Josh replied. 

"Since when?" Sam asked. 

"Never," Toby waved them both away. "Now leave me. You're ruining my cigar." 

***************** _Georgetown_   
_1:30 a.m._   
_Josh's apartment_

"You're my hero," CJ said as she laughed and threw her arms around Josh's neck as he open unlocked the door to his apartment--impressively on one try. 

"You said that in the car," he informed her. "You're also drunk so I'm not taking it as a huge compliment." 

"As well you shouldn't, compadre," she said through an inebriated grin as she turned her attention to Sam, reaching her arm around his shoulders. "Sam, you can be my hero, too. Josh is my first hero, but you can be his sidekick." 

"Like Batman and Robin," Sam said as they shuffled into Josh's apartment. "I'd look good in tights--better than Josh." 

Josh shrugged. Neither he nor Sam was in any condition to debate something as vital to the national interest as which of them would look better in tights. And, more to the point, Josh couldn't care. Not at that moment. His mind was locked in the same euphoric and alcohol induced haze as his two visitors, though he would have proudly pointed out that he had managed the stairs without tripping, unlike his two guests who were rubbing their shins and knees. 

"Did we lose Toby?" Josh asked. 

He counted the people in the room and divided the result by three to allow for altered vision. There appeared to be one fewer person than when their entourage left the the bar 15 minutes earlier. 

"I think we left him in the limo," Sam remarked. 

"Where did we leave that?" CJ cackled as she stretched out on the couch. "Josh, find it. I have faith in you; you can do no wrong." 

"Until the sun comes up," Sam said, lifting his feet and propping them up on the coffee table. "Then he turns into a pumpkin if his shoes don't fit." 

Josh patted down his jacket and found his phone. He hit the setting for Toby's number. After four rings, the speech writer's voice carried through the ether carefully. 

"Yeah?" 

"Toby," Josh said relieved. "Where did we lose you?" 

"I'm not sure," he said. "I see upholstery and windows and doors and a man in a hat." 

"You're in the car," Josh informed him. 

"That sounds logical," Toby replied. "Since you have all the answers, where is the car?" 

"Outside my apartment," Josh said. 

"So we're still in the general vicinity of Washington," Toby said. 

"Georgetown, to be precise." 

"Good," Toby replied. "I thought we heading to Vegas." 

"Sam wanted to," Josh said. "He's got some idea to make us all rich." 

"Yeah, we go to Vegas," Sam crowed from his seat. "We're at the top of our game. We are in our prime. Nothing can stop us. Wait! Where are my glasses?" 

"You're wearing them," CJ said. 

"Oh yeah," Sam said, feeling his face and locating the spectacles. 

"We've found Sam's glasses," Josh told Toby. 

"Good. Am I in the car still?" 

"I think so," Josh said. "You going home or coming up here?" 

"Unless the car can drive up there, I'm going home," Toby replied. 

"Okay, see you when the sun comes up," Josh said. 

"Sure," Toby replied. "Do me a favor." 

"What?" 

"Tell Josh I said he did good," Toby said then disconnected. 

Josh smirked as he turned off his phone. He turned to speak to his companions and found that both were now oblivious to the world. Sam had dropped off while sitting up--his glasses pushed onto the top of his head. CJ lay sprawled on the couch in a diva pose with her mouth open as she stared to snore softly. 

Josh shook his head and went to his bedroom. He gratefully collapsed on his bed and stared at the ceiling. 

_This might be the greatest day of my life_, he thought, not caring that it technically was already another day. _It was just about perfect._

_Just about._

He peered at the clock as an idea struck. It was 1:20 a.m. on the east coast. 

"That makes it," he paused to think how many time zones away Wisconsin was and settled on the simplest answer. "Earlier out there." 

He still held his phone in his palm. He again hit a memory button, this one for the only cell phone not on the east coast at the moment. It was answered almost before the first ring ended. 

"Josh?" Donna answered anxiously. 

"You're fired," he said instantly. "No more impervious. No more Mr. Nice Josh. You are so fired that I can't even say how fired you are." 

"Are you drunk?" she asked flatly. 

"Definitely," he said. "Sam and CJ are passed out in the other room." 

"Where are you?" 

"My bedroom," he said happily. "Now ask me where Toby is?" 

"Where is Toby?" 

"In the limo," Josh laughed. "Don't ask me where the limo is. The driver took off, but Sam has his glasses. They're on his head." 

"The driver's?" 

"No, Sam's," Josh replied. "And you're fired, Donnatella Moss." 

"Why?" she asked. 

"How could you not call?" Josh demanded. "Didn't you hear? What planet have you been visiting?" 

"I heard," she said warmly. "I watched it on TV. I called. Didn't Ginger tell you?" 

"No," he said. "I waited, and you didn't call, Donna. You owe me an apology." 

"For what?" 

"Because you didn't call," he said again. 

"I did call, Josh," she said. 

"You did not call Josh," he countered quickly. "I know because I am Josh, and I did not get a call from you, Donnatella Moss, the woman who I just fired. Do you know what I need?" 

"A handful of aspirin and about six hours of sleep?" 

"A letter and a cape." 

"Pardon me?" 

"No, the President, that would be Josiah Bartlet for the next four years--thank you very much--is the one who issues the pardons," he said. "And even a pardon won't get you unfired for not calling." 

"What do you need a letter and a cape for?" she asked refraining from pleading her case further. 

"For what do I need a letter and a cape?" he corrected her. "Notice how I didn't end that with a preposition." 

"Josh..." 

"At Harvard, they do not end questions with prepositions," he continued. "I mean, I never saw that rule in writing, but I've heard it oft quoted. Oft? Quoted often? Which one sounds better?" 

Donna suppressed a laugh as she pictured him, with his eyes scrunched while he was deep in thought. Her heart ached. She wanted to be there to celebrate with all of them. With him. 

_Tonight could have been the greatest night of my life,_ she thought. 

"Donna?" 

She shook her head and returned her focus to the call and caller. 

"So why do you need a letter and a cape?" she asked. 

"All super heroes have them," he scoffed as thought the answer was obvious. "That's what I am. Give me a big J for Super Josh. I am amazing. Did you know that?" 

"Actually, I did," she said earnestly. 

"You did?" he asked, sounding surprised. "When did you think that?" 

"Today," she said. "And other times. Sometimes, you can be marginally amazing." 

"And I was," he said sounding humbled despite the proclamation. "Everything else in my life is going to pale in comparison to this. It is the pinnacle of my existence. I mean it. I did this, Donna. I did it. I think history will eventually show that President Bartlet did actually win the election itself, but I won this battle. We all played a big part, but I like scored the last point in sudden death overtime. I have officially, and forever, justified my ranking as a master politician. I am officially a footnote to history." 

"Was there actually any doubt in your mind?" she asked. 

"A little," he said surprised at his own honestly. "I didn't believe I... I just... I wasn't sure." 

"You should have more faith in yourself," Donna said. "I never doubted you." 

"You didn't?" 

"Josh, I've seen you do things I just can't believe," she said. 

This was the side of Josh so few ever saw, and most likely none other than his closest friends would ever suspect even existed. His swagger and confidence carried so well in sound bites and countless magazine features that it seemed incomprehensible that there could be room for any other facet to his personality. Yet Donna knew well that there was. She knew the less sure side of him, the one that was never seen publicly. While the politician persona that earned him the adulation of Washington's power brokers (and scads females who comprised his fan club) was intoxicating for his intelligence and political savvy, it was the warm, sweet, bashful side of him that he hid so well which she found most endearing. 

"I saw you on Meet the Press last week," she said. "You told Tim Russert the President would win, and I believed you. You did it, Joshua. I'm so proud of you." 

"You are?" 

"Uh huh," she said giggling at the shock in his voice. "You did good, Josh. You are _da man_." 

She braced herself for another on onslaught of his boasting and self-congratulatory oration. She was determined to let him have several unhindered moments of unmitigated self-worship without comments from the peanut gallery. It would be difficult, particularly if he kept firing her in the process, but she felt he had earned it this time. Therefore, she was stunned when he spoke. 

"When are you coming home?" he asked solemnly. 

Donna's throat tightened and the sting of tears burned in the corners of her eyes and a tug at her heart. She could picture him with that beseeching expression, the one he wore in those rare moments when he stopped being Josh Lyman, master politician, and became just Josh, the guy from Connecticut who worshiped the memory of his father and still called his mother so she wouldn't worry about him so much; the man who gave her a chance when no one in their right mind should have; the man who didn't believe in the myth of his own personality and preferred to see his friends succeed. As Donna listened, she noted he sounded lonely, and it was the honesty and sincerity in his tone that nearly brought her to a shower of grateful tears. 

"I don't know," she answered finally. "No until after the holidays at the earliest. The doctors said Dad needs surgery and they think he's strong enough. I want to be here to help my mother; she's not handling this very well.. She needs me right now." 

"That's very selfless of you," he said. "When my father was sick, I... I didn't get to see him much and my mom had to take care if things on her own." 

"You didn't have a boss who was as understanding as mine is," she said warmly. 

"Normally flattery might get you some place," he said. "But today, I was showered with praise and accolades to the point that even I was getting a little bored with it." 

"Really?" 

"No," he chuckled. "I was working on my humbleness right there--rather convincing wasn't I? But you're right, your boss is a truly phenomenal human being compared to most." 

"Considering you were working for Hoynes when your father first got sick, it's not hard to look good in comparison," Donna said flatly. "At least you talked to your father; I still have a hard time speaking to my dad without getting into some pointless debate." 

"So you're saying you treat all the men in your life the way you treat me," Josh ventured. 

Donna bit her lip and felt her face get warm as Josh referred to himself in that way. 

_The men in my life?_

In other circumstances, she would have considered it a good and hopeful sign that he was coming around to acknowledging their non-relationship was something more than casual sex. But she knew better than to read anything into what he said while he was in such a state. He was high on his accomplishments, his evening and life in general. In fact, in her recollection, she could not recall ever hearing Josh sound so pleased over all. The arrogance so often present in his victories was there, but there was something else in his words as well. Something deeper and more satisfactory than simple pride. It was a sense of peace. 

"So, you are the darling of DC and you didn't have a date for the evening?" Donna remarked. 

"Darling?" he repeated. "You sound like my mother; I think she forgets my real name and does that darling thing to just...." 

"I meant...." 

"I know what you meant," he cut her off. "Now that you mention it, I think I was supposed to have a date. Wow, I think I'm in some serious trouble with what's her name." 

"Amy?" Donna ventured. 

"That would be the one," Josh agreed. "She can be mad a C.J. She's the one who said we all had to leave together so she could keep an eye on us. We dropped Ed off at Larry's girlfriend's house--to see if she knows the difference." 

"Josh, that's not funny," Donna chuckled. 

"It was Larry's idea.... or was it Ed's?" he wondered. "Doesn't matter." 

"So long as the professionals who counsel the President are mature," Donna said. 

"Hey, I'll give you mature; I'm going to Cambridge to give a lecture," he said. "The first part of January. They invited me to speak at the JFK School of government, Suzzy Q. Top that!" 

"Harvard is going to let you loose on their students?" 

"Scary world, isn' it?" he replied. "There's this Dean--Dean Tischler--who tried to expel me once." 

"Because of the fish?" 

"Could we talk about me and not Rosemary?" Josh interjected. "I was saying that Tischler was the one who called to invite me. That was sweet victory as well. Add to that unfettered access to young minds and..." 

"We're straying into the realm of things that scare me, Josh," she chided him. 

"Yeah, me, too," he chuckled dryly. "Then Leo's sending me away for a while. It's.... well, it's a thing. I'm going to the Northwest and Texas; he wants to use the trip as a chance to mend a few bridges." 

"Then why is he sending you?" 

"I'm the darling of the Party right now, which you would know if you had called," he said making another stab at his original point. "I'm also going to see my mother; it's like Chanukah and Christmas together for her." 

"It is Chanukah and Christmas , Josh," Donna informed him. 

"Right, well.... you know what I mean." 

"She'll be very happy to see you, yes," Donna replied. "Do you have your flight booked yet?" 

"As a matter of fact I do," he said testily. "You don't think I can do anything without you." 

"That's because you really can't," she charged. 

"I won an election," he said. "You weren't here. So there!" 

"Okay," she sighed. He was right, and that annoyed her as much as what he said. 

"Ginger booked it for me," he continued. "See, I'm capable of functioning without you on occasion." 

"On occasion?" she ventured. 

Josh's compliments to her were usually obtuse and could be extrapolated through what he didn't say as much as what he did. It was not that he was stingy doling out praise, but Donna understood that he asked a lot of her and the mere fact she was able to perform without incessant intervention or direction from him was the highest accolade he could pay her. He trusted her and for someone whose life was politics, trust was the rarest gift of all to bestow. 

"It's just better when you're here," he said. "I understand why you aren't here, but don't make it a habit. Temps are no good and the other assistants, frankly, have less than cooperative attitudes some days." 

"So you're saying its difficult to find good help," Donna quipped but she felt the sting of her own comment all the same. 

"No one is you," he replied then quickly diverted the conversation back to an earlier topic. "After the holidays, I'm going to Texas." 

"You said that," she informed him. 

"So I'll be back for the Inaugural stuff. You'll be back?" 

"I don't know," she said. "It's kind of complicated." 

"Oh," Josh sighed, as the sinking feeling returned to his chest. "It's just that this is our last one together--I mean this administration. It would be nice if you were there--at least for the speech and the Ball. I can't remember; were you at the first one?" 

"Briefly," she said. "I had a lot of work to do. I walked in the door at the Ball; you handed me a cellphone and gave me about seven thousand things you wanted done before noon the next day. I didn't even get in one dance." 

"Sorry," he said regretfully. 

"Josh..." 

"It's late," he said. 

"Yeah," she said disappointed the conversation was over. "Am I still fired?" 

"I'm thinking about it," he said haughtily. 

"I did call," she said. "I left a message for you to call me. That's why I answered the phone so quickly. I've been waiting for you, but you were celebrating. I was getting worried. I'm glad you made it home." 

"Hey, me too," he said. "I think the limo guy kidnapped Toby." 

"To what end?" 

"Good point," Josh said. "Well, you probably want to sleep and I know I need to. I've got to meet Leo at 8 a.m." 

"You'll be up and in the office by seven," she observed. 

"Maybe 7:30," he yawned. 

"Yeah, you've earned the right to sleep in," she said. "You've had quite a day. I wish I could have been there with you." 

"I wish you were, too," he said. He waited a moment as silence filled the line. "Donna?" 

"Good night, Josh," she said softly. 

"Good night, Donnatella," he said as he disconnected. 

He stared at the phone in its cradle for a moment. "I miss you." 

***************** _Oval Office_   
_Dec. 16, 10 a.m._

"Charlie," Bartlet called to his aide. 

"Mr. President?" Charlie arrived. 

"Yeah, did anyone come to work today besides you and me?" Bartlet asked. "It's been quiet next door so I was wondering if we have had the room sound proofed some more or if it was empty." 

Charlie grinned. The tension that strangled the atmosphere of the office for the previous weeks had disappeared over night. He was grateful. 

"Mr. McGarry will be in shortly," Charlie said. 

"Mallory relented?" 

"More like a tactical surrender," Charlie said. "He gave most of the staff the day off. They're available by phone if you need them." 

"Josh is back where he belongs?" Bartlet asked. "I mean, he's doing business out of his office full time now?" 

"No, sir," Charlie shook his head. "I mean, he's not working out of Mr. McGarry's office any longer. He's gone, sir. Or will be soon." 

"Gone?" 

"Yes," Charlie said. 

"Where?" 

"I'm not sure," Charlie said. 

"Florida," Leo said entering the room. "Good morning, Mr. President. Josh is taking leave for a while; he's doing post-game stuff with the networks this afternoon then he flies out tonight. He'll be on leave until after the holidays. He needed it so I ordered him. After that, I'm sending him to go mend some bridges and allow some folks to make up with the White House." 

"I see," Bartlet nodded. "What's really going on, Leo? I heard Albie Duncan was asking about him and some position over at State." 

"That's Earl Brennan doing," Leo said. "He started that. He's an old Irish politician. He's just looking after his people." 

"Josh needs looking after?" 

"Sir, even if these walls kept secrets, enough things were said and observed outside of this room," Leo informed him. "Every one of our people is a commodity. This is the second term. We're going to start losing people to better offers sooner or later. People see an opening and they step in and take the guy." 

"Yeah, but aren't the takers usually in the private sector?" Bartlet asked. "Josh has my own State Department stealing from me." 

"They came to him, sir," Leo reminded him. 

"That wasn't said in anger, Leo," Bartlet assured him. "I was just noting it." 

"For what it's worth, he's not interested," Leo responded. "Not in that job at least; I talked with him this morning. The only thing Josh wants right now is sleep and a good round of golf." 

"That's all?" 

"He'd like it if we controlled the Senate, too," Leo added for good measure. "Sir, they all get offers from the private sector. CJ has to beat them off with a stick. Josh doesn't want to go, but it's been long campaign and the world is not what is used to be. We should face the facts that there may be a better place for him. I've sent him to do some work for me so he has the space to think about where would be best for him. I think it would behoove us to do the same." 

***************** _Palm Beach Florida_   
_Dec. 22, 11:23 a.m._

The air was seductively warm and the sun astonishingly bright as Josh pulled the rented car into the driveway of his mother's home. It had taken nearly two years, but he had learned to accept and remember that she no longer lived in Connecticut. He wasn't entirely pleased when she uprooted, but looking across the tidy, tree lined street, Josh could see why she enjoyed it here. He waved to Marvin Gladstone--the neighbor across the street--he (like half a dozen others in this area) had lived within walking distance to the house in Connecticut. All his mother had really left behind of her New England life was the weather and the house. 

Josh thought it puzzling that his mother hadn't come to the door as soon as he pulled in to greet him. He left his bags in the car and made his way along the flagstone path that led to the lanai in the back of the house. What he saw when he got there was a vision of chaos not all that different from the office he left behind in Washington. 

"What the hell is this?" he asked, removing his sun glasses as he surveyed half a dozen boxes spilling their innards along the floor of the patio and two folding table erected there. 

"Joshua?" Anna asked, looking up at him in surprise. "Darling!" 

"What is all this?" he asked again as she navigated around the boxes to draw close enough to hug him. 

"What a nice surprise," she cried as she kissed him on the cheek. "It's so wonderful to see you." 

"I told you I was coming," he replied. CJ's father was grappling with Alzheimer's. Josh wasn't prepared to do the same. "Don't you remember?" 

"Of course, I remember," Anna replied. "I just didn't believe you. You said you'd visit. You've said that a dozen times in the last two years. I've seen you three times--and twice was because I traveled to see you." 

"Well, that's really not.....," Josh shook his head and returned his attention to the mess. "What is this? Are you being audited?" 

"What?" she said turning to see what was capturing his attention. "Oh, no. This is your father's." 

"Then he's made a huge mess," Josh pointed out. 

She lovingly slapped his wrist and guided him toward the back of the array of papers to an empty bench. She explained that had moved the boxes from the house in Connecticut with her to Florida. They had been collecting dust in New England and were merely getting musty in Florida. She thought it was time to clean them out. Most was unnecessary papers: warrantees for appliances she no longer owned; cards and invitations for various gatherings attended over the years. 

"These six and the eight more still in the garage are all that is left," she nodded proudly. "From what I've seen so far, all this belongs to your father's office. I called Harmon." 

"Why?" Josh asked. Harmon Dubois was the son of the original Dubois who founded the law firm where Josh's father had been a partner. 

"Most of this pertains to your father's work," Anna said. "I suspect the cases are now all closed, but I wanted to be sure. Harmon said anything that I wondered about, I could just ship to him." 

"Like hell you will," Josh said, reaching into a box. "These are the boxes Janice packed after..." 

"Yes," Anna told him. "But, Joshua, Janice had been your father's paralegal for 25 years. She was very loyal and might not have cared about the firm or your father's cases when she packed his office. She seems to have packed everything he ever touched." 

"That's why she was with Dad for 25 years," Josh said, looking at the documents. "She was the best, Mom. Whatever Jan sent you was his. Screw Harmon." 

"Joshua." 

"I'm just saying...." 

"Fine," she said rubbing her hands on gardening pants she wore to tackle this chore. "I'm getting some lemonade, would you like some?" 

"Sure," Josh said, reading the paperwork and sorting it onto the table. Much of it was nothing of interest, though he did get a little charge out of seeing his father's handwriting in the margin's of briefs. 

"I just want to get rid of it if it's no longer needed," Anna said. "I suppose I should just call my lawyer to look at it." 

"I'm sorry?" Josh said, turning to look at her. 

"My lawyer," Anna repeated then shook her head and chuckled. "Oh, wait. You know a little bit about the law." 

"Just a little," Josh nodded. 

"Could you maybe....." 

"I'll find a way to struggle through," Josh replied, offering her an expression that said if she wasn't his mother and someone he care for deeply, she wouldn't get such a mild response. 

"Thank you, Darling," she smiled as she breezed toward the kitchen. "The guest room is all made up for you." 

"I thought you said you didn't think I was coming," Josh remarked then looked at the boxes on the ground again. 

Only his father's legal papers were left; conveniently they ended up on the lawn the very day he was to arrive? He shook his head as he realized he'd been hustled by his own mother. Quite nicely done, he thought. 

"You know, I do assist when asked," he said, letting her know he was wise to the game. "The rouse wasn't necessary." 

"But how else am I to have fun with you, Darling?" his mother called from inside the house. 

"I guess this is better than you flirting with Leo," he muttered in response. 

"What was that?" 

"Nothing." 

***************** _Palm Beach, Florida_   
_January 4, 10:48 p.m._

Josh was packing his bags and his mother was doing her best not to repack them for him. It wasn't working well. No sooner did he put his things in the bag than she took them out and readjusted them. He gave up arguing with her. She was right, he conceded. Her way did work better. Still, on principle, he refused to let her do the initial packing. 

All the while he gathered his things, he spoke freely. It had been a good visit. They had not finished going through all of his father's work files. Two boxes remained in the garage. Josh suspected that was bate to be used by his mother in the future should she feel he was neglecting his visitation duties as her son. He had enjoyed looking through his father's papers. It had a calming effect on him and helped him gain some distance from the office. 

Not that that was entirely possible. He had done some work--spending two days in Tallahassee then traveling to Miami to meet with the party faithful before returning to partake in an actual vacation or sorts. A friend from high school, Isaac Miller, was in the area vacationing with his family--which meant he needed to get away from them for golf at least one day. Josh was also not free from contact with the White House. Toby and Sam had each called him a dozen times--half of them to settle or vent disputes between them regarding sections of the Inaugural address which was allegedly finished before the election was over. He was now looking forward to his lecture at his alma mater the next day then a week and a half traveling to various districts and states across the country on behalf of the administration and DNC to bolster support for the new term. It was an unnecessary task, but he was grateful Leo gave it to him. Josh wasn't sure what he was going to face when he returned to Washington. Insiders he could not identify or refute were still whispering to the press and others than Josh's office would have a new face in it after the Inauguration. 

So, rather than worry openly, Josh let his mind and mouth wander to baseball and grumbled about the weather that would greet him in Boston. 

"Twenty-seven degrees for a high," he shook his head as he disconnected from the internet and stowed his laptop computer in his carry-on bag. "I'll give this to Florida. They do weather in the winter better than we do up north. Have I mentioned that the weather this time of year is the one thing I like about Florida?" 

"And the electoral votes," Anna added as she readjusted his computer in the bag. "You've mentioned it once or twice since I moved here." 

"I think I need a new job," Josh said. 

"Darling?" Anna questioned him. 

He had mumbled something like that several times during the visit. At first she thought he was merely teasing her, but now she wasn't so sure. For being a man the magazines and news agencies were touting as a political champion, he certainly did not act like one who was pleased with his job. 

"I mean, I've done this one for four years," he mused as he continued tossing things into his bag. "What's left? The same thing. It's politics, after all. Nothing really changes. I did my thing. Now... Maybe I should try something else, you know? Something that travels in nicer weather and has more excitement, perhaps." 

"Meteorology?" 

"Too dull," he scoffed. 

"If you even joke about becoming one of those idiots that chase tornadoes, I'm going out and buying my casket first thing in the morning," Anna warned. "I will then put cyanide in my ice tea to save you the trouble of worrying me to death finally, Joshua." 

"I said nice weather," he assured her. "You know, it's become apparent to me lately that I missed my true calling." 

Anna shook her head. She knew were this was going. 

"Professional baseball player?" she offered. She hadn't held this discussion with him since he was 13 when he decided that school was secondary to baseball practice during April and May. 

"You think so too, huh?" he nodded. "With my background in negotiation, I could have been my own agent. Spend the winters in Arizona or Florida. Spring and summer in New York." 

"You'd have played for the Mets?" she ventured keeping a straight face. 

"Naturally," he continued oblivious to her mirth. "Retire from the game after a few pennants and at least one World Series ring were mine. Then the choice would be going into coaching or be an agent." 

"I would think coaching," she offered, straightening his packing job as he turned his back to gather more things. "You're a natural leader." 

"I really am," he nodded. "Do that for a little while. After the statue of limitations is up, I get inducted into the Hall of Fame then be made the Commissioner." 

"Darling, what's wrong?" 

"Well, I after high school I went to Harvard rather than a farm league in North Carolina for one thing," he said.   
  
"Something that your father and I regretted deeply," she said. 

"What was that?" he asked, finally listening. "Are you making fun of me?" 

"Of course, Darling," Anna said, shaking her head as the phone rang. 

It was late, nearing 11 p.m. She normally would be going to sleep at this hour, but Josh was there. He kept different hours than she did normally and she wanted to spend as much time as possible with him. She could tell from his demeanor and his continuing threats to run off and play major league baseball that all was not well at the office. She had convinced him that she should be a guest of his at the Inauguration in two weeks time. She wouldn't relish a trip to Washington in January, but she had some bridges of her own to mend. 

"Hello," she answered the phone skeptically. "Why, yes he is. Hold on one moment. Joshua, it's for you." 

"Me?" he asked puzzled. "Who is it?" 

"I'm not your secretary," Anna said holding the phone for him and suppressing a smirk. "However, it is a lady." 

"Give me that," he said snatching the phone from her and feeling like he was in seventh grade. "Josh Lyman.... Oh, hi Margaret..... What, no we were just talking. What's going on?..... What? What are you talking about?.... When?..... No, I hadn't heard.... Uh huh.... No.... No, that's fine.... All right.... Tomorrow? My flight is for six tomorrow morning.... Yeah, the thing at Harvard... Right I have to be in Tennessee tomorrow night.... What?..... No.... Uh.... Thank you for calling." 

Josh hung up the phone then sat down in a daze. 

"Darling?" his mother asked taking a seat beside him. "What is it? You look like it was bad news." 

"It was," he said distantly. "He's dead." 

"Who?" she asked quickly. 

"Donna's father," Josh replied. "He was supposed to go in for surgery, but he had a stroke." 

"Oh no," Anna said softly. "When?" 

"He died a few days ago," Josh said. "Margaret just called to tell me she took care of the office sending flowers. She... She thought I knew." 

"Why would you know, Darling?" 

"Charlie thought Donna had called me so no one thought to tell me," Josh said. "She didn't call me, though." 

"She's probably not thinking about work right now, Darling," Anna replied, lifting the phone. "I should send some flowers. The poor dear." 

Josh said nothing. He looked at his half-packed bags and shook his head. She had no reason at all to call him except that he thought she would. He shook his head and sighed. He needed to finish packing and secure his travel arrangements. He had a flight to catch in the morning. 

***************** _January 5_   
_11:47 a.m._   
_Madison, Wisconsin_

The sky was bleak. The steel gray of the clouds seemed to shroud the entire landscape. Donna stood with her mother and brother at the edge of the grave. The coffin was heaped with flowers freezing in the frigid air. Donna knew it was cold but had chosen not to wear her coat from the limousine to the graveside. She was feeling a little faint--the result of too much stress, not enough sleep and no food since lunch the day before. The crisp prickle of the air revived her. 

A razor sharp breeze flitted among the headstones. It was a dry cold that helped Donna hold back the tears. She hadn't let herself cry for real yet. She had watched how bitterly her mother wept and felt the need to be strong for her. Donna's brother, Ralph, was nursing a crushing hangover from the night before. He had done his grieving with his uncles on the back deck at the condo. Donna wasn't sure he was going to make it through the funeral, but some how he had. Their sister, Frannie, was back at the condo watching the grandchildren (Ralph's four kids and Frannie's one) as well as preparing for the after service gathering and nursing the tail end of the flu. Frannie had said she couldn't bear the funeral; she had lost too much in recent years (five miscarriages in six years and a college roommate in the last six weeks). She said she was leaving it to Donna to keep the family together until they returned home. 

So breaking down was not an option for Donna. She needed to be strong and she would be. She was surprised at how well she was coping. She didn't feel the wave of grief she was expecting. She was handling this with a cool, controlled and professional demeanor. 

_ Finally, I learned something from Josh that's usable outside Washington_, she thought. 

The minister finished his final prayer and the crowd began to drift back toward the cars waiting with engines running. Donna left her brother to guide their mother back to a car. She wanted a few moments alone at the grave, to say a private good bye. Ralph nodded and helped his mother as much as she helped him, make their way back to the caravan of cars. Donna turned her back to the departing mass; she did not see the newcomer speak to her mother and brother prior to their departing. Nor did Donna notice that all the cars but one left. She was too focused on the beautiful flowers on the coffin. They were so radiant and would be preserved quite well in this temperature, she kept thinking. 

"Donna." 

She heard her name spoken and then a hand softly touched her shoulder. She picked her head up and turned around slowly. Josh was there behind her wearing his dark overcoat and fixing her with a concerned expression. 

"I'm sorry about your father," he said. 

The composure that Donna had marveled at displaying was torn to shreds in that instant. The suppressed tears came spilling over her lids and painful sobs suddenly wracked her body. She also began to feel the bone chilling cold of the frozen air. 

As the outburst subsided, she realized that he was holding her and stroking her hair, telling her she would be all right. As her crying ebbed, Donna rested her head on his chest, convinced this was a dream. The whole thing had to be a dream; her father couldn't be dead and Josh certainly couldn't be there consoling her. 

"You still with me?" he asked after her breathing returned more to normal. He wasn't sure if she had fainted as she became so still. 

"I'm sorry," she sniffled as she stepped back and realized this was not a dream. "I just... I hadn't.... I didn't...." 

"You look cold," he said, taking off his coat and draping it over her shoulders. "Let me drive you home." 

Donna nodded and walked with him, her back ramrod straight as they crossed the frozen ground to the rented sedan waiting for them. He said nothing and she did not feel compelled to ask him anything. She just wanted to sit; her knees felt weak and her head was swimming. 

They entered the car; the heater was still warm and generously thawed her fingers. They drove the 20 minutes back to the condo in silence. Josh parked in the street just outside the complex. 

"I just heard late last night," Josh said apologetically. "I would have.... I meant to call you to see how things were, but I... I'm sorry." 

"That's all right," Donna said gratefully. "I only called Margaret at the last minute. She was the only one I spoke to. I didn't want to bother you. I know you were on vacation and then traveling for Leo." 

"Yeah," Josh said. "Everyone at the office wanted me to say.... you know." 

"Yeah," Donna nodded. "They sent some beautiful flowers. The President sent a very nice note. My mother appreciated it and so did I. I... I just can't believe this." 

"I know how you feel," Josh said. "Numb but not entirely." 

Donna nodded. Josh did know how this felt. He had been through it himself. She was starting to feel very tired and drained. The preceding weeks were catching up to her at break-neck speed. 

"Take whatever time you need," Josh said. "You had more Comp. Time than the finance office knew what to do with; you still have a ton; you'd better take it before they nullify it. I mean, there's really no need to rush back. I'm going to be gone and after that.... Well, everything is up in the air. Don't think about the office. Do what you need to do for yourself and your family." 

"Thank you," she said gratefully. "Are you staying here in Madison?" 

"No," Josh said quickly as he looked at his watch. "This was just a stop in my tour. I've got to go." 

"Oh," Donna said softly. "Well, at least come inside and have something to eat." 

"I can't," he shook his head. "I only had an hour. I have to be in Tennessee to meet with the governor tonight. I need to head out now to catch my flight." 

Donna nodded. He got out of the car and opened her door. She stood on wobbly legs and started to walk away when she realized she was still wearing his coat. She turned around and gave it back to him. She thanked him again--offering him a handshake--then watched as he pulled away, disappearing down the street. Donna returned to the condo and the commotion of the friends and family gathered in the confined space. 

Donna spoke briefly to several people then felt the walls closing in. She wandered upstairs to the room that she had once shared with her sister. She sat on the bed and listened to the hum of the conversations downstairs. She felt dizzy as her head swam in the static and murmurs as she lay down for a moment. She did not even hear her mother enter the room to speak to her. 

"Donna?" Patricia Moss asked as she sat on the edge of the bed. 

"Mom," Donna said startled as she opened her eyes. 

"I'm sorry," Pat said easily. "Did I wake you?." 

"No, I just got up here," Donna said. 

"Donnatella," her mother shook her head. "You've been up here for two hours. You fell asleep." 

"I'm sorry," Donna replied, sitting up quickly. 

"No, don't be," Pat said, patting her hand. "You needed the rest. You've been up for the last two days taking care of everything but yourself." 

"I'm fine," Donna said, amazed at the two hours of lost time. "Do you need anything?" 

"No, dear," Pat assured her. "Frannie has the house under control. I was just worried about you. I wanted to speak to you when you got in, but you slipped upstairs so quickly. Mr. Lyman didn't want to come inside for a moment?" 

"He couldn't," Donna said. "He had to rush to catch his flight. This was just a stop over for him. He had to go to Tennessee for work." 

"I see," Pat nodded. "Oh, Donnatella. What can I do to make this easier for you?" 

"Nothing," Donna said, offering her a weak smile. "I'm fine, Mom. I'll be just fine. Don't worry about me." 

Pat sighed. She considered her next words carefully. 

"You miss him already," she said matter-of-factly. 

"Of course," Donna said. "I can't believe Dad's gone." 

"No, sweetheart," Pat shook her head and chuckled softly. "I know you miss your father, sweetheart. I meant you miss your Joshua. You were surprised to see him?" 

"Well, it's not like he lives just 20 miles away," Donna said. "He was on vacation the last two weeks or so. I wasn't aware he knew about Dad." 

"Thoughtful of him to come to see you," Pat continued. "Very thoughtful." 

"He's a good boss," Donna said simply. "Josh lost his father unexpectedly a few years ago. He... He was being considerate." 

"I think it's more than that," Pat confessed. "I don't mean to pry into your private affairs..." 

"Mother," Donna gasped. 

"Donnatella, please," Pat smiled. "We're both adults. I'm not saying I disapprove. He's a very intelligent, kind and handsome man. He obviously thinks a lot of you as well." 

"Josh is my boss," Donna insisted. "That's all. He and I are.... friends, but it's not like we're... or that we... This is just what friends and colleagues do when one of them loses a close family member." 

Pat shook her head and sighed. 

"A colleague would send a card; a good boss would send flowers; a good friend would call," Pat surmised. "Donnatella, this man flew half-way across the country to see if you were all right. That, my child, makes him something else entirely." 

"Mother, it's not like...." 

"Did he enjoy the little talk he gave at his college?" Pat asked, knowing the answer. She had asked him herself at the cemetery. 

"I'm sorry?" 

"You told me he was invited to speak at his college this week," Pat said again in a calculated tone. 

"Harvard," Donna gasped. "Oh no! He was supposed to do that this morning; he got here by noon.... So he must not have...." 

"Evidently, he had something more important to do," Pat said nodded and smiled as she stood to leave the room. "Come down stairs, dear. You should get something to eat." 

***************** 

_White House Press Room_   
_January 5th_   
_6 p.m._

"Good evening, my little chickees," CJ said as she stood behind her podium. "I hope we had a nice dinner." 

"CJ! CJ!" the reporters clamored, hands waving in the air. 

"And here I thought it was going to be uneventful," she sighed. "Katie." 

"CJ, do you have advanced draft of the President's inaugural address?" the reporter asked. "We heard that someone got a copy." 

"What inaugural address?" the Press Secretary smirked. "Oh, that inaugural address. No. Toby and Sam have written, rewritten and rewritten the rewrites. There is no speech as of yet." 

"CJ," Katie continued. "So you're saying there isn't anything anyone has gotten their hands on so this whole thing about a leaked copy is not true." 

"You know," she sighed. "When I said I don't have anything, I obviously meant that I do have something but I choose not to tell you because I don't like your shirt." 

Steve waved his pencil in the air. "So someone does have it?." 

CJ flipped a couple pages in her briefing book and then looked up. "Well, Steve, as soon as Toby and Sam decide to unearth themselves from Toby's office to breathe, then I'm sure they'll hand me a synopsis of the actually draft speech and you'll all get an advance copy about two hours before the President decides to wing it on the podium himself. Danny?" 

"So how are they holding up?" Danny Concannon asked. "I hear that Sam and Toby in the same clothes that they were wearing the night the President was declared the winner and that Toby has thrown Sam out of his office at least four times in the last seven hours." 

"They're doing fine," she responded. "And its six times in four hours; you need to get better sources inside this administration if you want to keep up, Danny." 

"CJ." 

"Yes Danny?" 

"How are they holding up?" Danny continued. "I mean the staff as a whole. Is everyone playing nice again?" 

"We've got fifteen days to go, Danny," CJ said. "Rest assured the speech will knock your socks off and any staffing changes that will happen will be news to me because no one is updating their resume this week." 

"So Josh is still on vacation?" Danny asked. 

"As a matter of fact, he is," CJ said. "He took time out of his time off to represent the staff at a funeral for one of the assistants--his senior assistant, actually, Donnatella Moss. Her father, Artemis Moss, passed away three days ago after a brief illness. Josh was in Wisconsin this morning. For the rest of this week and next he will be making the rounds to various congressional districts." 

"So he's not making the trip to England with the President?" Danny prodded. 

"He was never scheduled to make the trip," CJ said truthfully. No one on staff was actually scheduled as the trip was not going to occur if they lost the vote in December. 

"He's one of the President's top domestic policy advisors, and he wasn't scheduled to accompany him on a trip to discuss the European Union and trade markets?" Steve asked, picking up the scent. "Why?" 

"The President is a Nobel Laureate in Economics," CJ chastised them, spinning the story out of her briefing room. "How soon we all forget. Tisk, tisk. I think it should be obvious that the President can handle a talk with the EU about the effect of the Euro on US markets without a lawyer." 

"So Josh is non-essential personnel now?" Danny jabbed. 

"The guy's face is on every politician news magazine in the country right now," CJ said, sidestepping the question. "I wanted a break from him so I arranged for a tornado to drop him in Texas for a while. Okay, anybody want to hear about, you know, real news? Anything about how the fourth quarter unemployment rates went down? How the crime rate dropped four percent? Anybody?" 

Mark raised his hand. "CJ, what is the White House's reaction to the ongoing strike out west with the port workers?" 

CJ smiled. "Good boy." 

**************** _Lafayette Park_   
_January 12th_   
_1:15 p.m._

"Do you remember the last time we had a break like this?" Ed asked as he hurled a foam football across the park. 

"Uh, give me a minute," Larry responded at he caught the football. "Wait. I've got it. November 15, 1997." 

"I was going for something more recent," Ed replied. 

Larry returned the football to his colleague. "That doesn't count." 

"Why not?" 

"We're not going to get in trouble," Larry pointed out. "You weren't the one who almost broke a 19th century chair while trying to catch Sam's sidearm pitch." 

"That's true," Ed laughed. "The look on Leo's face when he turned the corner… I thought he was going to bore a hole through you with his eyes." 

"Yeah, well, that's the last time I agree to catch for Sam," Larry said. "He may have won that softball game for us, but I think the pitcher lofted him a soft one." 

"How so?" Ed asked. 

"She had the hots for him," Larry smirked. "Thought he reminded her of a movie star she had a crush on when she was in high school." 

"Why is it that nearly every woman thinks that?" Ed questioned. "He looks like no one." 

Larry shrugged as he caught Ed's pass. The two men continued to toss the football back and forth before their pagers chirped simultaneously. 

"Time to go back," Larry said as he stopped his pager's noise. "Toby's needs pie again." 

"How can you tell?" Ed asked. 

"My pager reads 'Get in here now or I'll bury you under the rose garden.'" 

**************** 

_White House Communications Office_   
_January 14th_   
_7:30 p.m._

"GINGER!" Sam yelled. 

Ginger stuck her head inside Toby's office; a place to which she had quietly told Bonnie was more like sticking her head in the lion's mouth. 

"Yeah?" 

"I need…" he said as he shuffled the piles of paper on the coffee table. "I need… the thing I asked for half an hour ago." 

"I gave it to you," she told him. 

"No you didn't," he responded. "I would have remembered you handing it to me." 

Ginger picked up the red folder by Sam's feet and placed it atop the file. "Here it is. Sam, you barely remember what day it is." 

"Sure I do," he countered. "It's Wednesday afternoon." 

"It's Saturday evening." 

"Oh. Well, I was already at Wednesday in my head." 

Ginger nodded. "You need a muffin? I'm going to Poppytwist." 

"Please," Sam said graciously. "And a double Latte" 

**************** 

_Oval Office_   
_January 15th_   
_11:45 a.m._

"Charlie," the President smiled as his aide entered the Oval. "Come see what Annie gave me." 

Charlie walked over to the desk to gaze at the object. "It looks like a calendar." 

"It's not just any calendar, Charlie," the Commander-in-Chief disagreed. "It's a calendar on waterfalls. Waterfalls from around the world." 

"It looks very nice sir," Charlie said as he placed a folder on the desk. He turned to leave. 

"Take a look at this one," Bartlet opened the calendar. "Look at the waterfall in June." 

"Yes, sir," Charlie sighed. "It's very… watery." 

"This waterfall is located in Washington State," Bartlet began. "Says here that it takes a 90-degree angle and spills into a narrow gorge in three powerful arcs, which engulf the base in vapor clouds." 

"Yes, sir," Charlie replied. 

"And don't think I didn't notice that sigh of yours earlier," the President pointed out. "This is the wonder of nature here, Charlie." 

"I understand, sir," Charlie answered. "And while I believe that waterfalls are very nice to look at, you have a meeting with the Treasury Secretary in four minutes; Larry will be staffing it since Josh is...." 

"Right," Bartlet nodded. "Send him in." 

"Yes sir." 

"Charlie." 

"Yes, Mr. President?" 

Bartlet placed the calendar in his desk drawer. "The people of Zambia call their waterfall 'Mosi-Oa-Tunga' which means 'smoke that thunders.'" 

"February?" he asked. 

"October," Bartlet said. 

****************

**To**: donald_cregg@yahoo.com   
**From**: Claudia.J.Cregg@whitehouse.gov   
**Sent**: 15JAN2003, 6:14 PM. EST   
**Sub**: Almost there 

_Hi Dad,_

_I have a little break here before I go home to finish packing. Off to merry old England with the President and Press Corps tonight. I've never been clear on why they call it merry old England. I mean, I get the old part, but merry? It always seems to rain and no one over there seems to smile all that much._

_Anyway, I wanted to keep you up to date as to what's been going on since you won't be here for the Inauguration this time. Everyone here has been working around the clock finalizing things for the second Inauguration. Sam and Toby are on their eighteenth draft of the Inaugural Address, which is actually a conglomerate of the first seventeen drafts._   
_I have never seen anything like this. I mean, our first time around we were scrambling and trying to get our feet on solid ground during the transition phase. Now, we're old pros. Granted I can' t say that nothing's gone wrong because I'd be lying to you. The new Congress isn't even in session yet and already people are clamoring for new committee assignments. I voted to have them all thrown in the Potomac, but it got voted down [by a slim margin, I might add. Toby agreed with me]._

_I really wish you could be here for the festivities next week. I want you to know that you will be here in spirit, at least. Pay close attention to the part of the speech about education. I think you'll like it. Take care of yourself._

_Love you daughter,_

_Claudia_

**************** 

_Toby Ziegler's Office_   
_January 15, 10:35 p.m._

Toby bounced the ball against the wall as Sam read through the latest draft of the address. He glanced at his deputy from time to time while continuing to toss the rubber sphere. 

"Are you done?" Toby grumbled. "You've been reading that for ten minutes." 

"It's a fifteen minute speech," Sam answered. "I'm allowing for applause." 

"Allowing for applause?" 

"Well …in my head," he said, returning to his reading. 

A knock on the door interrupted the writers. 

"What do you want?!" Toby yelled. 

Bonnie and Ginger stuck their heads in. "How's it coming?" 

"Fine," Toby answered shortly. "Do you need something?" 

"We just wanted to know if you needed anything," Ginger said. "You know, food, water…" 

Toby glared at the assistants. "No. Ed ordered Chinese. We're fine." 

"Okay," Ginger said, raising her hands in defeat. "We'll be at our desks." 

"Go home," Toby replied. "There's nothing more for you two to do here." 

"We can hang around for a while," Bonnie countered. "You might need some more research done." 

Sam shook his head. "No. We're researched out. Have a good night. See you at 8 tomorrow." 

The two assistants nodded and closed the door, leaving Toby and Sam alone again. Sam rubbed his eyes and resumed his reading while Toby now stood and began pacing. He then stopped and picked up his rubber ball and began bouncing it against the wall next to Sam. Without stopping his reading, Sam reached out and snatched the object in mid-air. 

"You need to calm down," Sam said. "The part I've read is fantastic. I don't think we've crafted a better speech." 

"I am calm," Toby argued. "Look at me Sam. I'm the pillar of calmness." 

Before Sam could answer, there was another knock on the door. 

"Yeah?" 

"Hey guys," Larry said, poking his head in. "I just wanted to see how the speech was coming along." 

"It's coming along fine," Toby answered quickly. "And… thanks for all your hard work." 

Larry smiled. "Sure thing. See you guys tomorrow." 

Larry shut the door and the guys returned to their activities. Twenty minutes later, a third knock on the door occurred. 

"For the love of God," Toby screamed. "This better be the food or so help me I will hurt whoever is outside!!" 

"I didn't know that food was a prerequisite for entering your office," the President said as he opened the door. He turned to his agent. "I think I'll be fine, but keep your ears open." 

The agent nodded and stood to the right of the threshold. 

"Mr. President," Toby said slowly. "I'm sorry… sir. I didn't think you were still working." 

"I was just wandering the halls," Bartlet answered. "Hey Sam." 

"Good evening, sir," Sam stood. "Or shall I say good morning." 

"Yes it is," the President agreed. "And you two should be home in bed. Is it done?" 

Sam swallowed hard. "T.. the speech?" 

"No, the Magna Carta," Bartlet smirked. "Of course the speech. May I see it?" 

Sam handed the document to the President. "It may need another rewrite, sir." 

The President removed his reading glasses out of his breast pocket and put them on. He took a seat on Toby's couch and began reading. Sam and Toby looked at each other, anxious to hear what the President thought of their work. The President continued to flip the pages and read the last Inaugural address of his career. He came to the last page and stopped. 

"Mr. President?" Toby asked. 

"Yeah?" 

Toby pointed to the paper. "You… you didn't read the last page." 

"I don't need to," Bartlet proclaimed. "This is fantastic work, gentlemen. You're done. Once DaVinci was done with the Mona Lisa, he didn't go back and paint a better smile on her; Shakespeare didn't amend Romeo & Juliet to have them live. Masters of their craft are always their worst critics. They fail to see what the average person sees – a masterpiece. Go home, fellas. That's an order." 

"Thank you, Mr. President," both men answered. 

Bartlet smiled and nodded. 

"Let's go Coop," he said to his agent. "England calls." 

***************** _Office of the Presidential Secretary_   
_January 18th_   
_4:30 p.m._

"I've failed," Debbie sighed into the phone. "None of these will work." 

"You're still looking for a dress?" Charlie asked from the car as it sped to the US Airbase. 

The President's trip to Europe was now over. They would be heading home within the hour. He had called to check in to see how the secretary had done in marshaling the final details for the inauguration. She was left with one problem: her own attire. 

Debbie noisily flipped through a catalogue on her desk as she responded. 

"Looking for a dress for the Ball is a difficult and draining task, Charlie," she explained. "One must have an elegant and appropriate gown for the Inaugural Ball. None of this low back, high slit stuff for me." 

Charlie smirked. "They have those type of gowns?" 

"Funny boy," she replied. "And don't think I won't be watching you and the President's daughter. You need to behave yourself." 

"I will," Charlie nodded. "I'll still be working. As long as the President's there, I'll be working. Now, maybe I'm missing something here, but aren't you a little late in getting your gown? I mean, you've only got two days--not even that considering what time it is." 

"I have nearly 48 hours," Debbie said as though it signaled eternity. 

"I don't think that you can get a dress through the catalogue and have it in two days." 

"They have Express delivery," Debbie countered. "And I have a back up, but really, I look at it and it just says 'back up.'" 

"Your dress talks to you?" Charlie asked. 

"You'll be seeing little birdies and stars if you keep being impertinent," Debbie growled. "I am the President's Secretary. I need to look worthy of the title." 

"Carry a dictation pad," Charlie offered. 

"Spoken like someone whose sex is required to all dress alike," Debbie moaned. "Men have it easy. One black jacket; a pair of black pants; black tie and white shirt. Where's the creativity in it?" 

"We dress blandly to make the ladies stand out," Charlie said, echoing the comment he overheard Ed make to his girlfriend recently. 

"That doesn't help me when the gown in my closet is black," Debbie said. "It's so... funereal." 

"Sorry," Charlie apologized. "But think of this. If you order from a catalogue, don't you run the risk of what I am sure would be a really smoking gown being the wrong size? That happened to my sister Deanna for her senior prom. She ordered this dress and it looked like a tent on her." 

"Charlie!" 

"It did," he defended. "I suppose it was better than it looking like a banana skin. I'd have had to put my food down on that." 

"What did she do?" 

"Raced to Pentagon City the morning of the prom to get a new dress," Charlie said. "But she didn't have the money to cover it, so she was stuck with the tent. She rigged something with duct tape and safety pins; CJ helped her. No one knew the difference." 

"I'm not that handy and CJ and I aren't that close," Debbie said. 

"Then I would suggest buying some bright spray paint to dress up your black gown," Charlie said before disconnecting. "We'll be getting in around midnight your time. See you tomorrow." 

**************** _CJ Cregg's Office_   
_January 19, 7 a.m._

CJ had arrived back from her trip across the Atlantic with one worry: her gown. She had received an odd phone call after landing from Debbie who spent a fair amount of time bemoaning the problem with wearing black and the chance of not having a dress that fit. With that anxiety now planted firmly in her head, CJ woke Carol and ordered her to bring the garment bag, that had been delivered to her assistant as a favor, to the office for a before hours fitting. 

"What do you think?" CJ asked her assistant as she unzipped the long garment bag. "Should I try it or am I just doing a loony thing about it?" 

"Both, I think," Carol nodded. "No one's here. Might as well try it." 

CJ nodded then closed her door. She slipped into the silk and brocade garment and smoothed it down with a well trained eye. 

_No worries, _she thought. 

"Carol," she called. Her assistant entered the office and nodded. 

Carol let out a low whistle. "Wow.' 

"It works?" 

"You've got it going on," Carol nodded. "Who's it by?" 

"Alicia Gaylton," CJ grinned as she pulled out the forest green, strapless chiffon garment. "Just look at how it flows. There's no way I'm going to trip in this. I'm not repeating the last Inaugural Ball." 

Another voice soon joined the discussion. 

"Wow, to see you in that even I'd stumble right in front of Tim Russert," Danny Concannon offered. 

"What are you doing here?" CJ asked hotly. 

"Admiring the show," Danny nodded. 

"And?" 

"Flagrantly breaking the rules," he offered. "But there was no one out there or in the press room so..." 

"That's because it's 6 a.m.," CJ seethed. 

"You're here and doing a fashion show," he pointed out. "I actually did have a point, though I'd rather just look at you in that." 

"Danny." 

"The House is going to vote on stem cell research funding," he said. "I got it from Cleeland last night. They think they have the votes to kick it out of committee." 

"I see," CJ said. 

Some of the government research grants were to go to Alzheimer's research where experts were predicting extensive breakthroughs within two years with the proper funding. Though she knew it was not her place to push for such things, she harbored a hope that something could be done to help her father before the man he was was lost entirely. 

"Thank you," she nodded after a moment. 

"Yeah, I was wondering if maybe you could see if the administration is going to get into this one," Danny continued. "Josh is due back today. If he's going to be making any trips to the Hill before the big dance, a heads up would be nice." 

"Sure thing," she promised. 

"By the way," Danny said as he turned to leave. "I'd have been gracious too if you tripped and fell into my arms at the Inauguration. I wouldn't be as selfish as Russert and ask for an exclusive with the President in return." 

"You don't want an exclusive?" 

"I didn't say that," he argued. "I just said I wouldn't ask for it. Dinner, I'd ask for." 

"You want dinner with the President?" 

"With you," Danny smiled. "Wearing that dress." 

"Sorry," she smiled. "I won't be tripping tomorrow." 

"You might, if I arrange it just right," he smirked as he left whistling. 

**************** _DC Metro_   
_January 19, 9 a.m._   


"Next stop, Farragut West," the Metro driver announced. Josh leaned his head against the window of the Metro and sighed. He had been on a working vacation per Leo's orders and after several days, his mission was complete. 

But the entire trip was not enjoyable. Attending the last few moments of Art Moss' graveside service and seeing the entire family, especially Donna, in pain was uncomfortable. It brought back visions of five years ago that he didn't want to relive. 

Josh rifled through his backpack and removed a folder. He was reading the notes that Margaret had faxed him when he heard a familiar voice. 

"The Golden Boy has returned," Amy Gardner said. "Or did you ruffle enough feather to tarnish that image?" 

"Hey," Josh said surprised. "I didn't see you. I'm sorry." 

"Don't be," she smiled. "You just didn't notice that the Metro stopped." 

"Oh. Wait, did I…" 

She shook her head. "You didn't miss Federal Triangle. We're just now leaving Metro Center." 

Josh rubbed his eyes. "It's… been a long trip." 

"I heard about Donna's father," Amy said softly, gently touching his arm. "Did you know him?" 

"I met him once," Josh answered. "He was a decent man." 

"It was nice of you to be there," Amy said. "How's she doing?" 

"Fine, I guess," Josh said. "Haven't spoken to her since I saw her." 

The two rode in silence for several seconds. 

"So, are you asking me to the Inaugural Ball or not?" Amy said. 

"You don't have an invite of your own?" 

"I do, but I thought you might do the chivalrous thing and ask me," Amy said. 

"I don't understand feminists like you," Josh shook his head as the train shuddered on. "You knock yourselves out publicly showing the world that you can do everything yourself, but you still want a guy to ask you to the prom." 

"I didn't say I wanted you to ask me," Amy said. "I asked if you were going to ask me, Jay. Are you taking someone?" 

"As a matter of fact, I am," Josh said. Amy offered him a raised eyebrow expression. "My mother asked to go. She's turned into my father I think with this bragging thing she's got going. I'd put a stop to it, but I see no need to disagree when she says I'm amazing." 

"The blindness of mothers," Amy nodded. "I understand." 

"She's getting in the day after tomorrow," Josh said, ignoring the comment. "She probably won't stay for the whole evening, but she asked to go so..." 

"Yeah," Amy nodded. "She wants to make sure you behave." 

"Something like that," Josh said as the train slowed. "So where are you headed?" 

"Breakfast," Amy smiled. "I'm meeting a friend at L'Enfant Plaza." 

"Ah," Josh smirked. "And this friend is…?" 

"Just a friend," she grinned. "Amanda and I go way back." 

"Federal Triangle. Doors opening on the right," the driver announced. 

Josh stood, threw his backpack over his shoulder and grabbed onto the pole. "That's my stop." 

"Hey, when is Donna coming back?" Amy asked as the Metro slowed to a halt. 

"I don't know," Josh said. "I'm.... I'm not sure she's coming back at all." 

"Oh," Amy nodded. "Is that okay with you?" 

"I have a choice?" he asked then shook his head. "I gotta run. I just got in and I should see if...." 

"If you still have a job?" Amy ventured. 

"Something like that," Josh said as he stepped out of the car. 

"I'll see you at the thing," Amy called. "Save a dance for me." 

"You bet," he nodded.   
  


**Up Next, Chapter Two: The Inauguration**


	2. The Inauguration

**Title**: **HEAVEN AND HELL, _The Inauguration _**(Chapter Two)   
**Authors: Enigmatic Ellie and Westwinger247**   
**Webpage: http://wing_nuts.tripod.com**   
**Notes**: _This is the sequel to THE QUEST. Thanks to those of you who followed us from one series to the next._

_The White House_   
_9:25 a.m._   
_January 19_

Josh slid his security card in and typed his code, to signify his entrance to the building. He gave a brisk nod to Mike, the uniformed Secret Service officer at the desk, before turning towards his office. As Josh made his way down the hallway, he took stock of his surroundings. The Christmas decorations were long gone – not even a sprig of holly was left. Everything was back to normal. 

Or so it seemed. 

Josh could feel that something was different. He had been gone for weeks, representing the White House, but more so the Democratic National Committee. Was it a possible interview? A trial before the President asks for his official resignation? There were other offers on the table that were not so nebulous. Concrete offers with expiration dates that were drawing near. 

Josh rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. He nodded to several of the staff members, receiving no reply. Ed and Larry were busy shuffling between the Mural Room and the Communications Bullpen. They were organizing the last minute details of the Inauguration, Josh assumed. He remembered being involved in the process the first time. There was an adrenaline rush that took weeks to subside. 

Josh entered the Operations Bullpen and paused. His eyes drifted to Donna's desk; how quiet and… empty it was. He inhaled deeply before entering his own office and the disaster that awaited him. 

When he entered, he shook his head. He stepped outside to see if someone else had claimed the territory and given it order in his absence. However, there was no name on the door and nothing to signal he had been thrown out. He stepped inside again. The only thing he recognized were the pictures on the wall—his pictures. He shook his head. His office was clean. The hundreds of faces that once adorned his wall were gone; any envelopes addressed to him were stacked neatly in two piles on the corner of his desk. 

_God bless Margaret,_ he thought as he sat behind his desk. He began rifling through the stack of messages. Finding a message from Senator Carey at the bottom of the pile, he turned his chair around to place the call. He caught a bright blue Post-It note on his monitor.   
_Staff Meeting._   
_January 19, 9 a.m._   
_Agenda in yellow folder_   
_-Margaret_

  
Josh looked at his watch and added fifteen minutes. 

"Damn it," he huffed as he snatched the folder. He quickly made his way to the Oval Office. 

"I don't think so, Mr. Come-Lately-to-Staff-Meetings," Debbie said, wagging her finger at Josh as she approached the door leading to her office area. 

"Debbie, I haven't been to a meeting in weeks--literally," Josh pleaded. "I rushed here right from the airport. I haven't eaten since noon yesterday; the last time I slept was the day before so really, now is not the time to....." 

"Why?" she interrupted promptly. 

"I'm sorry?" 

"Why are you running on a campaign schedule still?" she asked. "We won weeks ago, remember? We eat and sleep regularly in this White House now." 

"Guess I missed the memo," he said. 

"Well, that's still not getting you into this meeting," she vowed. 

"Debbie, damn it," Josh growled. 

"Watch it, Mister," she warned. "This hen is in roost here. You're the one who's been gone. Everyone else is playing by the rules." 

"They're stupid rules," Josh said. "I know your reason, but they're stupid all the same." 

"The rapier wit of the Ivy League aside, you're still not going in there," she shook her head as she patted his arm then walked by. 

"It was the weather," he sighed. 

"I'm sorry?" 

"The reason for my last 48 hours being what they were," Josh explained dejectedly. "There is a rather sizable storm said to be heading toward Washington. If I wanted to get back here before it hit, then I had to leave yesterday--and it still made me late for today, and that is because I had to go to Nevada from Texas in order to get to Chicago so that I could get here." 

"You had to fly west from the south to go east?" she summarized. 

"I haven't drawn a map, but that sounds about right," he answered. 

"Josh, I feel for you," Debbie said. "I really do, but I've put my foot down and the President is backing me." 

"Figures," Josh mumbled. 

"What was that?" she asked. 

"Nothing, just acknowledging my luck," Josh said then shook his head. 

He walked away, not sure what affect his absence from the meeting would have on his standing in the administration. Leo had been curiously silent on the subject of Josh's position in regards to the President. Josh hadn't felt compelled to ask. _Why invite bad news,_ he thought. 

With heavy thoughts and a useless agenda, Josh wandered down the hall. He read over the agenda, trying to discern if there was anything he desperately needed to know on it. As he read, someone passed by him muttering anxiously in a foreign but familiar tongue. Unconsciously, Josh responded. 

"Oh my God!" Annie Weston exclaimed as she whirled around to face him. "What did you just say?" 

Josh cautiously eyed the President's 15-year-old granddaughter and ran his response over in his head again. 

"I think I said, 'Someone didn't do her homework'," Josh replied. "At least, that's what I meant to say." 

"No," she beamed. "It is! That's what you said. At least, that's what I thought you said and since you said you said it then it must be what you said." 

"Okay, you gotta stop that," Josh shook his head. "You're making me dizzy." 

"I'm Annie," she said in an agitated way. 

"Yeah," Josh nodded. "We've met a couple times, Annie. I'm Josh L-..." 

"Mr. Lyman," she pleaded, cutting him off in mid-introduction. "You have to help me." 

*****************   
_Oval Office_   
_Senior Staff Meeting_   
_9:26 a.m._

CJ nervously read the note left for her from Steve Martouche, the Reuter's correspondent, as Toby continued to emphasize to the President the importance of not ad libbing any section of the next day's address. The note was vague and that worried her. It mentioned Josh as well, and that made the knot in her stomach cinch even tighter. He had been distant in the past few weeks. She had not spoken with him directly more than three or four times during his extended tour of the country. Rumors of his future plans abounded. The latest, and the most outrageous, said he was offered a consulting position for a block of moderate Republican senators who felt their party wasn't listening to them and that the Democrats were taking their support for granted. 

Josh working for Republicans. It made her chuckle initially. For him it would be like being thrust into one of Dante's rings of Hell. Well, they're moderate Republicans, she reasoned, maybe it's more like Purgatory. Still, even that bit of humor didn't take the worry out of Martouche's note. 

"CJ?" the President said, and from his tone she knew it was not the first time he had called to her. 

"Sir?" 

"See, Toby, this is why I go my own way with speeches from time to time," Bartlet said. "I find when people get that glazed over look that they really don't absorb what I'm saying." 

"Makes it harder to criticize," Sam offered. 

"Since when has that stopped anyone," Toby grumbled. 

"Indeed," Bartlet nodded. "CJ, will you be taking part in the meeting or does it suit you to sit there looking aloof like an extra in a Felini film?" 

"Sorry, Mr. President," she apologized. "I was... I wasn't listening." 

"Leo, can we do something about the level of honesty in this room," Bartlet said in good humor. "I don't mind hearing the truth, but there are times when the staff should spare my feelings." 

"Yeah," Leo said non-committally. 

The President then asked his question again. CJ thrust the dread from her mind and reminded herself not to ask the question so present in her mind: Where was Josh? 

She had a memo in her office--one Toby told her to draft. In it was her proposal for how to present to the Press that Josh   
Lyman had resigned and how best to control that story. The shock of being asked to draft it was hard enough; that she had   
been asked to write it just three days after the Congressional vote to decide the election stunned her beyond discussion. As such, she had not broached the subject with Toby again since his initial request. She had written the memo and outlined her ideas. There were two scenarios she forecasted. First, all was well and it was an amicable parting. Second, the administration needed to get in front of a time bomb; Josh knew much and could hurt them if he chose. 

She doubted the second was possible, though even contemplating the first so soon into their next tenure was unfathomable.   
But now there was Martouche's note. She wondered if it was a strategic thing set up by someone else in the administration or perhaps the DNC to make the transition believable or easier. Or was it just one of those odd coincidences that no one believes in but that are just serendipity in DC? 

"Claudia Jean," Bartlet said in a scolding tone as he caught her drifting again. "Do I need to make you stay after class?" 

"Sir," she started then paused as she looked at Sam and Toby. "I... I'm sorry. I need to have a moment alone with Leo." 

"Now?" Bartlet asked. "What is it?" 

"Well, oddly enough it's about the Constitution," she said. 

***************** 

_Communication's Bullpen_   
_9:40 a.m._

Annie sat at an empty desk in the far corner of the room. Josh sat beside her with his feet balancing on an empty trash can as he read that morning's addition of the New York Times. He had agreed to assist the young woman with her German homework for a lack of anything better or more pressing to do. Annie, who was nearly as angry as she was embarrassed by the solid C she was pulling in the language class, worked on her grammar; she had a two page assignment she was being permitted to complete and fax to her teacher. If she didn't finish the work, her parents would not allowed her to go to the Inauguration. And worse, her mother and her grandfather would be disappointed. Josh noted it was an equal worry regarding both authority figures. 

"Why are in this room again?" Annie asked, letting herself become distracted again. Josh noted this was something she did rather easily. 

"'Cause this is the Communication's Bullpen," Josh said mildly as he read the OpEd piece about the recently resolved port workers strikes on the west coast. The administration was being slammed by the paper despite both sides in the dispute being grateful for the intervention. 

"Right, but don't you have an office?" Annie asked curiously. 

"Yeah," Josh said. "But people would find me in there. They won't think to look here." 

"So we're hiding?" 

"No," Josh corrected her. "You're wasting time, and I'm passing German for you." 

"You haven't helped me since question number three," she pointed out. 

"And what number are you on now?" 

"Do you have kids?" 

"No," he scoffed. "Why?" 

"Cause you talk like you do," Annie replied. "That or like my teachers." 

"Great minds," Josh remarked. "What number?" 

"Seven," she said curtly. "How long did you study German?" 

"Long enough to get into college," he said. 

"I want to go to Brown University," Annie proclaimed. 

"Why?" 

"My father went there," she said quickly. 

"Your father went to Dartmouth," Josh corrected her. 

"Do you know everything about my family?" 

"No," Josh said. "What's his name?" 

"Who?" she asked. "My father?" 

"No," Josh replied with a smirk. "The guy you have a thing for who goes to Brown." 

"I like a school that is named after an earthy color," she said ineffectively. 

"His name?" 

"I'm not following him," Annie argued. 

"You're stalking him," Josh countered. 

"I'm doing question seven now," she said and looked back at her notebook. 

"Is he an idiot?" Josh asked. 

"He goes to Brown," she answered swiftly then looked at him. 

Her face was red and she knew she'd slipped. She chewed her lip. 

"He goes to Brown right now, and you think he's still going to be there in four years when you start college?" Josh asked. 

"I plan to graduate high school a year early," she said. 

"Not if you flunk German you won't," Josh pointed out. "But if you do graduate a year early, you should go to a better school than Brown." 

"My uncle did graduate from Brown," she informed him truthfully. 

"Then I should tell your father to have his brother call the Alumni Association and check out your boyfriend," Josh said. 

"You wouldn't!" Annie shouted. 

Josh grinned mischievously. The poor girl didn't know what to do. 

"How's number seven going?" he asked innocently. 

"Josh!" 

"Hey, what happened to Mr. Lyman?" he asked. 

"Don't," she begged him. "Please! Don't you tell them!" 

"Yell a little louder and I won't have to," he told her. 

"Oh," Annie relented and sneered at him briefly. "So this is why you never have a girlfriend." 

"I'm sorry?" 

"You're just like the guys I go to high school with," Annie surmised. "No one stays with any of them long either." 

"I get paid better than they do," Josh ventured. "I probably also have my face on magazine articles more often than they do.   
I also know important people so if I was you...." 

"That's why you can't go into my grandfather's office right now?" Annie asked deviously. "Because you know so many important people?" 

"I thought you were supposed to call him the President when you're not around your family," Josh remarked. 

"He's my grandfather and I'll call him that if I like," she said defiantly. "So why is an important guy like you out here doing homework with me rather than in there doing.... whatever it is that you do." 

"They do just fine without me," Josh said. 

The truth of the statement didn't take away its pain any for Josh; in fact, it made it feel worse. 

"Seriously?" she asked. Her teenage tantrum had abated. She seemed curious and mildly concerned. 

"After everything you've shared in the last two minutes, would I lie to you?" Josh asked flippantly. 

"A politician can lie to anyone," she said cagily. 

"But not always successfully," he said. 

"Does my grandfather do it?" she asked. "You know, lie? I mean, it's part of what he does, right? Sometimes, he can't tell the truth for.... reasons like security or whatever, right?" 

"Annie, the President is an honest and righteous man," Josh said, slipping back into his job as administrative spin doctor. "If you have questions like that, I think they're best addressed to your mother or your family in private." 

"Well, you're like family to the President," she said. 

"I'm not," Josh shook his head. "I work for him." 

"Right, but you're like family to him kind of," Annie surmised. "I've heard him talk to you and talk about you to my mom and my grandmother when he talks about stuff you all do here. He talks about you and about Mr. Ziegler and...." 

"Things change," Josh said evenly, hoping to change the subject. 

"What does that mean?" 

"It means what it means, Annie," Josh said. "This isn't like some club where we're all friends and everyone likes everyone else. We're not a little happy gang. This is politics and.... We work here on serious subjects and the magnitude of those subjects results in a variety of divergent opinions and approaches. The one thing everyone can agree on is that we don't all like each other. The goal is to try to respect one another so that we can get things done. So, it's work, okay? This is a job; its not an easy job." 

"You don't like it?" she asked. 

"No, I don't like it," he answered. "I love it, but.... It's a job. It's not my family--no one here is family." 

"You and Sam Seaborn are good...." 

"That's different," Josh cut in. "Sam and I were good friends long before we came to work here." 

"What about my grandfather," she asked. 

"He's the President," Josh said simply. "He's the leader of this nation, and he is my boss." 

She looked at him through opened eyes. She was at the age when fairy tales are shattered and replaced by reality without any notice. Heroes were torn down to reveal nothing more than a regular man or woman with the same frailties and faults of everyone else. 

"I was watching something on CNN," she said carefully. "One of the guys said something about you not being.... that you're at odds with the President and that you might not be working here much longer." 

"Annie..." 

"Josh," she asked with great apprehension, "are you going to get fired because you missed that meeting?" 

Josh surveyed the guilt-ridden expression on her face and heard the worried tones in her voice. He couldn't stop himself from laughing. 

"No," he laughed for the first time in weeks. "Trust me, Annie. I promise you if I separate from my job it won't be because I helped you do your homework but thank you." 

"For what?" she asked perplexed. 

"For nothing," he said, reining in his chuckles. "I needed that. You know, this business is pretty asinine. I... I need to be reminded of that once in a while. Donna used to, but she's... Never mind. Thank you, Annie." 

"What will you do if you... don't do this?" she asked, still worried. 

"I'm thinking of resigning this afternoon and becoming a German tutor." 

"Josh, if things aren't so good, I mean," she hemmed. "How long will you stay?" 

"As long as I'm needed," he answered returning to his reading. 

"But how long is that?" she asked. "Who decides when it's time for... a change?" 

"I'm like everyone else here," he said, trying to dismiss the subject. 

"And that means?" 

"I serve at the pleasure of the President," he said finally. 

***************** 

_Leo McGarry's Office_   
_11:13 a.m._

"He did what?" Leo asked CJ for the third time. 

"He may have advocated... you know..," CJ said with a helpless gesture with her hands. 

"Advocated the over throw of the government?" 

"Amending the Constitution," she said shaking her head. "Something about elections and who really has the right to hold an office, I guess. I don't know for certain and if I start asking about it then..." 

"Then it shows that we're asking about it so it's thing," Leo seethed. "Is he nuts?" 

"You know Josh better than I do," CJ shrugged. 

"The President hasn't even been sworn in again and he's picking a fight that'll launch a pitched battle that will result in the majority of Congress--Democrat and Republican alike--standing against us and probably half of the American public," Leo growled. "This is..." 

"Typical?" CJ ventured. 

This was their second meeting of the day after the staff meeting. She had given the Chief of Staff the brief information she knew from Martouche. On it's face, it was innocuous. Everyone would like the law of the land to be a little different. But   
Martouche was tracking down another story. His was digging into the recent congressional vote. He was hearing rumblings that the administration's newly crowned prince of negotiation was advocating a constitutional alteration. What it was precisely, no one would say. However, right-leaning media outlets were going to print and broadcast that one of the President's men didn't believe in the means it took to win the recent contest. 

"I don't know what he said or to whom," CJ told Leo. "Josh didn't do any public speaking engagements while he was gone other than that thing at Harvard so..." 

"I thought he canceled to go to the funeral," Leo remarked. 

"He canceled at the beginning of January," CJ said. "He rescheduled and spoke there last week. You didn't know?" 

"I wasn't invited," Leo brushed it off. 

"Leo, I'm asking you," CJ said emphatically. "The details aside right now, I was wondering if maybe.... Is this something that was set up so we can... so he can... Are we getting rid of Josh?" 

Leo looked at her with a stony expression and sighed. There had been instances where he had stood toe-to-toe with the end of Josh's career in the White House; at all those times, Leo never blinked. He knew it was where Josh belonged because it was where his heart was. Now? Leo wasn't so sure. Josh had not spoken with the President in nearly a month's time. He kept in regular touch with Leo and never once was there a request to speak to the President directly. Not that there was need. Josh wasn't doing anything that required briefing the President personally. This was the post-election wrap-up, pre-term warm up. It was a vacation assignment for job well done. He was there as much on the part of the administration as he was at the behest of the DNC. The security log and a discussion with Debbie Fidderer confirmed that he had returned to the White House that morning, but he was not physically present in the building at that moment. According to Janice Sharp, an assistant in the Operations bullpen, he was currently taking a meeting with Senator Ron Chaffee. 

"I haven't signed any adoption papers if that's what you're asking," Leo said, sidestepping a direct answer for CJ. 

"He's meeting with Chaffee," she said. "Chaffee is the spokesman for the Mod Squad." 

The Mod Squad was the aptly named block of half a dozen moderate Republican senators. 

"Yeah and he's the one who we talk to when we want to show that we have friends on both sides of the aisle," Leo informed her. 

"What are we talking to him about today?" CJ asked. 

"We're scalping tickets to the DNC ball tomorrow night," Leo said hastily. "Look, CJ. I've got these folders here on my desk because I have real problems to contend with: a couple dozen nut-jobs traipsing around the globe plotting to end civilization as we know it, a federal budget no one wants to pass (including me) and there's this little thing called the economy that I like to take a look at for laughs once in a while. So, you can see why I might not be all that interested in Josh showing his vacation snap shots to his old friend Ron Chaffee right now." 

"Yeah," she nodded and stepped back from her interrogation. She started to leave the room. "Only, they're not old friends." 

"They play golf," Leo said. 

"Only when one of them wants something," CJ replied then left. 

*****************   
_January 20, 9 p.m._   
_D.C. Convention Center_   
_The Inaugural Ball_

The forecasted snow had held off throughout the cold afternoon. The skies were almost painfully bright and the President's frozen breath curled from his lips and his message to the people carried over the chilled air. The President delivered an address that would make even the staunchest Bartlet hater get chills, and not from the bitter cold. C-SPAN caught many moments from the address. Sam and Toby were mouthing the words of the speech along with the President; CJ was wearing a smile as bright as the sun and Leo's face was stoic, but his eyes were bright. 

After the parade and numerous new reports, the social formalities began. The President made various stops at several balls given in honor of the occasion before arriving at the big one at the convention center. Instead of the traditional red, white and blue bunting and balloons that adorned the walls of the other parties, the convention center was adorned with elegant silver wall sconces, each holding a small candelabra; the dozen chandeliers elegantly lit the guest with a warm glow; the drapes were a shimmering gold, pulled back to show the first snowfall of the year. 

"I have never seen anything more beautiful," Anna Lyman replied as she looked around the room. 

"I prefer to think of myself as devastatingly handsome," Josh noted as he escorted his mother inside. "Beautiful is kind of girlie." 

"Joshua," Anna chided him lightly with a pat on his arm before placing a kiss on his cheek. "I meant the ball room and you very well know it." 

"So you don't think I'm handsome," he teased. "My tie is even straight." 

"No thanks to your assistance," Anna shook her head. "Oh, I recall having to get you dressed for many occasions when you were a child. I used to be a blond, you know. Then…" 

"You can't blame me for you gray hair," Josh countered then stopped. The look on her face silenced him. 

"Gray, darling?" 

"Did I say gray?" he said quickly. 

"You did." 

"Well, what I obviously meant was…." 

"Platinum, darling," she corrected him. 

"I liked it better when you took these things out on Dad," he mumbled and shook his head. 

"I have more hope of training you properly," she said, clearing hearing his aside. "I see I still have years of work ahead of me. I will say this, you do look quite sharp this evening, Joshua. Then again, every other time I see you, you look like you've just fought ten rounds and lost so it's not precisely a…." 

"Hey, I gave you a special tour of the White House today," he cut her off. He had given his mother her first full and official tour of the White House that afternoon while the building was generally vacant during the speech. He reasoned he had been gone for so long that another few hours wouldn't matter. Besides, the speech was Toby and Sam's stage. "I could've turned you into a Popsicle by taking you to the Inaugural Address." 

"Yes, Darling," Anna patted his arm. "Someone's heading our way. Friend or foe?" 

Josh turned to see the person his mother was speaking of. He was a short and stocky man with thinning red hair. He wore a pleasant grin and had a purposeful bounce to his stride. 

"Josh!" Chaffee said offering his hearty handshake and brilliant smile. 

"Senator Chaffee," Josh said making the introduction. "This is my mother, Anna Lyman. Mom, Senator Ronald Chaffee." 

"Of the Mod Squad," Anna said brightly, offering her hand. Chaffee grinned instantly. "They call you the lesser of most evils in the editorial column of my newspaper." 

"I see your son's political poise is genetic," Chaffee chuckled. "I was wondering if I might bend his ear for a moment.   
Pardon the intrusion." 

"That's quite all right," Anna said. "Joshua darling, while you're busy I'm going to step outside and call Angela to confirm the time of the train tomorrow." 

Josh nodded and she departed. 

"She's going back home by train?" Chaffee remarked. "Connecticut is it?" 

"Florida, unfortunately," Josh said ruefully. "But she's not going by train. She's going to Baltimore in the morning by train to visit her cousin. What can I do for you, Senator?" 

"Giving me an answer would be nice," Chaffee said. 

"I'm sorry?" 

"They should be saying that to you, but they won't," Chaffee said as he nodded toward the front of the room where the Leo was greeting legislators and waiting for the President to rejoin the gathering. "Take Chase and me up on our offer. Hang out your shingle as a private consultant. You align with us and both sides will need you. Think of the position that puts you in. More power than you've got now." 

"I'm not into power," Josh said. 

"Right and I'm not into politics," Chaffee scoffed. "Walk away--hell storm away and recoup your dignity. After what you did for these folks and they treat you like this? You're not an errand boy, but what did do? They sent you across the nation to do the last few weeks like an intern. It was a good will tour from a man who wishes you ill will. Now, I know you aren't going to respond to that." 

"No, Senator, I'm not," Josh said firmly. "I really think this is not the appropriate..." 

"Well, I do," Chaffee cut him off. "You left Hoyne's staff with less provocation, Josh. I respect the Presidency..." 

"But not the President?" 

"Let me finish," Chaffee chastised him. "I respect the office. I don't approve everything the President has done while in office, but politics aside, I believe he is essentially a good man. Misguided at times and elitist in most instances; however, I don't know him well enough to figure out why you've been put in the position you're in today. Nor, for that matter, do I care. What I do know is that you've been reclassified as a pawn--something that can be cast aside with little damage. That's a miscalculation. The President may be a hell of a chess player, but he doesn't recognize your value. I do." 

*****************   
_10 p.m._

CJ weaved her way through the crowd. She was on a mission and was determined to find her target. She knew he was at the party; the problem was trying to locate him in this sea of – for the moment – bi-partisan guests. CJ wanted to talk to him first thing, but she was delayed at the New Hampshire ball room by a local reporter wanting details on a miniscule point made by the President during his address. Her eyes darted around the room and locked on Josh. She briskly walked toward him. 

"Dance with me, Fred," CJ said, gripping Josh firmly by the elbow to let him know that refusal would be unsuccessful. 

"I heard you were looking for me," Josh said mildly as she tugged him to the dance floor. 

"Really," she replied. "Was that from the six pages and three calls I put in to you this afternoon or did you hear a rumor? I'm not sure if you noticed, but the President gave a little speech today. It was the Inaugural address." 

"Yeah, I heard it on TV," Josh said. "They said it was cold. Was it?" 

"It was 22 degrees with a slight eastern wind," CJ informed him tersely. "You were at the office?" 

"Yeah, my mother never got the real full tour before," Josh said. "I figured with the place half empty she would enjoy it more. Plus, it was cold so…" 

"Did you do any packing?" she asked bluntly. 

"I was giving my mother a tour," Josh said. "All those little details and stories that they never have time for on the public tour. It's always so hectic there, but I figured today it would be less frantic while you were all out doing your thing." 

"Getting sworn in again?" 

"Yeah," Josh said. "Did you need me for anything?" 

"Well, knowing where you were would have been nice," CJ said. "And you didn't answer my question." 

"Leo knew where I was," Josh said. "What do you want? 

"First, at least pretend you want to dance," CJ said forcefully placing her hand on his shoulder and shuffling her feet. 

Josh followed in kind, eventually wrestling control from her so he could at least lead in the physical part of this encounter.   
The look in her eyes told him regardless of his answer, she was the one in charge of the conversation. 

"So you've been busy," she began. "Traveling across the country, fielding job offers, rewriting the Constitution." 

"I got the traveling bit, but the rest...." 

"Josh, the new guy with Reuter's says you want to change election laws," CJ said. "Was there some proposal you, I don't know, insanely advocated without thinking? Did you perhaps imply that the recent election wasn't the way that things should be decided?" 

"No," Josh shook his head. 

"That's all you have to say?" 

"Okay, no and will you stop trying to lead," he scoffed. "I know you have this aggressive thing but...." 

"The Eleventh Amendment," she said. "I'm hearing it came up perhaps when you were at Harvard. That clear things up any?" 

Josh thought for a moment. He had said a lot, to a lot of people, during his stint out of Washington. Recalling all of it was not a simple matter. But there was something in her words that was stridently familiar. He combed through the topics of his lecture at the JFK School of government but nothing matched her accusations. Then again, he thought, Harvard had that effect on him. There were so many memories from his association with the institution that he.... 

"Ha!" he laughed suddenly. 

"What is that?" 

"That was me laughing, briefly," Josh chuckled as he shook his head. 

"So this is a joke?" CJ asked hopefully. The thoughts of the memo locked in the top drawer of her desk were strong in her mind. 

"No, I was serious," Josh said. "When I said.... Actually, I didn't say anything. I wrote it." 

"Wrote what?" 

"A suggestion," he said. "I proposed rewriting the Constitution." 

"You wrote it?" CJ asked, her heart sinking. "What? Where? E-mail or..." 

"No, it was a position paper," Josh recalled fondly. "I stand by it, too." 

"Josh," CJ stopped dead on the dance floor. Her expression was dire and enraged. 

"It was the guy with Reuters?" Josh asked. 

"Yeah, Martouche is his name," CJ said. "He's only been around about six months." 

"Do you trust him?" 

"No," she said instantly. She didn't trust any reporter completely. 

"Good," Josh said. "Let me go do a thing here. You go... drink. You look like you need it." 

Josh walked away from her, scanning the crowd for the face he needed: Danny Concannon. Josh located him near the doors to the terrace. He was in the middle of a cluster of fellow scribblers discussing why he wasn't writing a book about his coverage of the tribal wars in two African countries with Josh arrived. 

"Danny," Josh interrupted. "Walk with me." 

"Sure," he nodded, grabbing a flute of champagne from a tray held by a passing server. "There's this rumor going around that you've lost your mind and you think you're Thomas Jefferson." 

"The Constitution was primarily written by James Madison," Josh corrected him. 

"I thought that was Francis Bacon," Danny offered. 

"You're thinking of William Shakespeare," Josh continued. 

"You mean Christopher Marlowe," Danny added. 

"Right," Josh said, ending the tangent. "The Reuters guy is right, but he hasn't spoken to me." 

"He's waiting for you to get fired," Danny said frankly. "Then he's going to run with his take. I said you're more apt to resign. You are, right? We've got a betting pool and I picked resignation as of tomorrow morning." 

"How much?" 

"It's over $650 right now," Danny said. "I take it you want to talk to me about something." 

"Yeah, let's talk about the Constitution," Josh began. "But it's not an exclusive; you think I can tear a few of you away from the bar for a few minutes? If so, you can start things off." 

Danny looked at him squarely. 

They don't know what they're losing, the reporter thought. Leo's crazy to let you go over a personality clash with the President, and you're twice as nuts for helping him do it. This kind of loyalty is supposed to be extinct in this town.   
  
  
  


***************** _11:23 pm_. 

Josh completed his informal, yet on the record, discussion with the three reporters who followed Danny out onto the terrace for the impromptu interview. The story was going to do precisely what Josh predicted it would. He considered telling CJ, but there was something fun in a juvenile way about letting her stew over it from the rest of the night. Besides, as a favor to Danny, he promised he would not speak with CJ on the subject the rest of the evening. It would give Danny a chance to maneuver her to the dance floor for some fun of his own. 

Josh's efforts to fly under her radar were short lived. He deposited his mother in a cab to take her back to her hotel not long after returning from his interview. She wanted to turn in early; Josh was to have breakfast with her at 8:30 the next morning before her train. After making these plans and seeing his mother off, Josh entered the grand ball room to see CJ make the sea of guests part before her. 

He was left with limited options. To his left were reporters catching on that they had missed something by ignoring Danny's hint to step outside previously. In front of him, CJ. Behind him, the frigid night. The only course left was to head to the right--something he didn't do naturally. However, upon doing so, he encountered someone who he was not surprised to find there. 

"Ainsley," Josh said, placing his hand on her shoulder. "You owe me a dance." 

"I do?" 

"Yeah," Josh said. "For the hearing last year when you threatened to hit me." 

"Okay," she said simply, not recalling any promises of a dance or anything else, though she did recall the threat of physical violence. 

She joined him on the dance floor, noting that they were surrounded by a thick wall of people. She could see from the way his eyes dissected the crowd he was searching for someone, yet his expression said he'd rather not find that person. 

"So we're hiding?" Ainsley gathered. 

"No, this is called dancing," Josh corrected her then squinted hard as a photographer's flash blinded him briefly. 

"Oh, my father will love that one," Ainsley said. "What do you think they'll caption it: Democrat's Dragon Slayer waltzes with Republican Mole?" 

"Your father would say that?" 

"No, he'd hope I didn't fall prey to your Democrat charm," she replied, her tone indicating that charm from a Democrat was akin to imbibing poison in her father's eyes. 

"Well, just give him my mother's explanation," Josh said. "I take after my father so I have a weakness for blonds." 

"Just some, though," she replied. "Or, should I say one. And by that I mean, that is, the individual you, or in this case your mother, refers to in the paraphrasing of the statement to which you allude." 

"How did you make it through law school speaking like that," Josh asked mystified. 

"I was a highly regarded student at Harvard," she retorted. 

"So was I," he countered. 

"That just leaves me with a lot of questions," she replied with a sigh. "So, you did mean Donna?" 

"I'm sorry?" 

"The blond you prefer," Ainsley explained. 

"I...," Josh stammered. "I was just... That is, my mother thinks... Really, it was a joke between her and my father and me...." 

"I only say that because she is your assistant and you are quite close," Ainsley continued, grinning. "Closer than I would recommend for most employer/employee relationships." 

"My assistant and I are both....," Josh began. 

"I said most," Ainsley cut him off. "It's none of my concern, really. I was just... Well, considering the rather volatile nature of your relationship with others in the office at this time, I was just going to point out that the appearance might be more dangerous than any alleged impropriety. Fuel for a raging fire." 

"You're concern, while mildly suspicious and deeply disturbing, is unneeded all the same," Josh said not offended. "Thanks, though." 

"You're very welcome," she responded. "And you're quite good, by the way." 

"That's why I'm Leo's deputy," he answered. 

"No, I meant the dancing," Ainsley corrected him. "Most men tend to be klutzy or awkward or simply don't know what they're doing." 

"Yeah mean dancing, not in general, right?" 

"For now, I'll stick with the just dancing," she nodded. 

"Good thinking, but for the record, I'm also pretty good as Leo's deputy," he said, not sure why he was finally pleading his case (and in such a casual manner) to the sole Republican on staff. 

"I've heard," she replied. "You don't want to leave it." 

"Nice weather we're having," he said inanely rather than respond to her observation. 

"So you were just hiding in general from this subject or anyone who might ask you about it," Ainsley discerned as she nodded. "So that's why I'm the blond you took out here." 

"Just grabbed one off the shelf," Josh said. 

"So long as Donna understands I'm only her stunt double while you practice real answers in your head," Ainsley offered. 

"Why do you keep talking about Donna?" Josh asked. 

"I don't," Ainsley argued. "I mentioned her twice." 

"It was more than twice," Josh contended. 

"It wasn't," Ainsley assured him. "And the only reason I mentioned her the second time is because I thought she was trying to get your attention and you were ignoring her for a good reason. But if you're just having a thick or slow moment, I think she'll understand that, too. After all, you two are close." 

"What are you talking about?" 

"Thick and slow moments?" Ainsley repeated. "That's what my grandmother used to call it when we would..." 

"No, about Donna trying to get my attention," Josh interrupted. "She's not even here." 

"She was talking to Mike Stein over there to the left a minute ago," Ainsley informed him. 

Josh whirled around quickly, searching for her, but coming up empty. Ainsley shook her head and took him by the wrist.   
She led him through the tangle of couples to the area where she saw Donna last. 

"A word of advice," she said, though she wasn't sure he was listening. "If you're going to deny something, you should at least pretend that you believe it." 

"How's that?" 

"She's wearing a blue dress and tell her she looks nice when you see her," Ainsley said nudging him forward. "And just because I helped you doesn't mean I like or trust you." 

"Same here," he nodded then headed off. 

***************** 

Josh spotted several blonds in the sea of gowns and tuxedos. He eventually found her near one of the corners, speaking to the other Senior Assistants. He couldn't take his eyes off her as he headed to her location. She was clothed in a beaded sapphire blue gown with thin straps. She shifted slightly, revealing a dangerously high slit on her right side. Her hair was swept up in an elegant chignon and her ears decorated with dainty rhinestone studs. The gown hugged all the right curves on her body and shimmered in the light of the chandeliers. The color of her gown accentuated her smooth alabaster skin. Josh had never seen her look this stunning. 

"Josh?" Amy asked as she stopped his movement. "My dance card's getting full. You owe me one." 

"Not now," he said briskly, brushing past the brunette. 

Toby wandered past as Amy got her refusal. 

"Wow," he said handing her his fresh glass of champagne. "That had to hurt; you might need a few of these." 

"Yeah." 

Josh shifted his way through the crowd of well-wishers, stopping every few feet to accept a handshake for a job well done. He finally made his was to the assistants' corner. 

"Hey Josh," Ginger smiled. "Nice party, huh?" 

"Uh huh," Josh said absentmindedly as turned his attention to Donna. 

"Donna, do something with him," Margaret chuckled. "We're having girl talk and he's not." 

"Not what?" Donna asked, keeping her gaze casual. 

"A girl," Margaret said. 

"Excellent idea," Donna smiled. 

"What is?" Margaret asked. 

"Didn't you say Josh should dance with me?" Donna offered. 

"No," Margaret said slowly. 

"Yeah, I thought so," Donna replied as she grabbed Josh by the sleeve and tugged him toward the dance floor. 

"She's not working tonight Josh so whatever's on you mind can wait until morning," Margaret called. 

"Don't bet on it," he said under his breath as he followed Donna back through the crowd. 

Donna stopped eventually as they took a place on the dance floor. The instruments swelled, signaling the start of a new piece. Tony Bennett, the night's signature performer, crooned the opening the first verse of The Way You Look Tonight. 

"So..,." Donna began as she placed her hand in his. 

"You're.... uh... I can't believe..." he stammered. 

"Can't believe what, Josh?" 

Josh positioned his hand around her waist and pulled her close. "You... that you're here... When did you..." 

"This afternoon," she replied. "I flew into BWI and my friend Alicia picked me up." 

Josh looked at her surprised. "Today?" 

"Yes." 

"You didn't call," he pointed out. 

"I know," Donna apologized. "I had a lot to do." 

He thought for a moment and chose he next words carefully. "I needed to…. That is, I wanted to talk to you about…" 

"Please, not here, not now," Donna sighed. "I just want to enjoy this. Whatever it is, it can wait can't it?" 

"Yeah, sorry," he apologized, briefly lowering his head. He then looked into her blue eyes. They shimmered in the lights of the ballroom. She was looking better since the last time he saw her. 

"How's your mother?" Donna asked, breaking the tension. 

"My mother?" Josh repeated. "Fine. She was here earlier but left – got to catch an early train to Baltimore tomorrow." 

"Oh, I wanted to speak with her," Donna said. "To thank her for the flowers she sent." 

"She knows you appreciated it," he smiled. "How's your mom doing?" 

"She's getting better." 

"It's hard," he remembered. 

"Yes, it is," Donna nodded her agreement. "You look so tired, Josh." 

"I'm fine," he reassured her with a grin. "You look really good." 

Donna blushed. "Thank you." 

"Did you steal this dress?" He grinned, dimples in full force. 

"Josh," Donna chided as she swatted his chest. Her attack was met with a dip from Josh on the dance floor, causing her to yelp in surprise. 

"Haven't you read any papers?" Josh smirked as he righted her. "I'm full of surprises, Donna." 

"Tell me something I didn't know," Donna replied, tucking some errant strands that had fallen from her chignon behind her ear. 

Josh's face turned serious. "Donna... I.... We really should talk about you know..." 

"I know," she concurred. "Just, not here." 

He quickly nodded. "Oh, right. No, not here. No." 

"We'll talk all about this later," Donna said. "Right now, I want to enjoy this night." 

***************** On the other side of the dance floor, the President was taking in a dance with his eldest daughter, Elizabeth Weston. He might have just been sworn in hours earlier to again lead his nation, but he was prouder still to be dancing with his daughter. 

"You know, you learned these steps from me," Bartlet stated. 

Liz chuckled. "Mom taught me how to dance." 

"Elizabeth," Bartlet glared with a gleam in his eye, "you were dancing on my feet when you were three years old. I think I taught you." 

"Then how come I had to ask Mom to teach me before my first school dance in seventh grade?" she asked matter-of-factly. 

"You think I was going to teach you how to dance with another boy?" 

"You'd prefer I danced with a girl?" 

Bartlet thought momentarily. "At that point in time, yes." 

Father and daughter continued to dance Tony's soft crooning. Liz scanned the faces and smiled at what she thought was a beautiful couple. "I wonder who taught Josh how to dance?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"He's quite at ease," Elizabeth observed. "Then again, maybe it's the partner who brings out the best in him. Not that Donna would care if it didn't, but he's quite smooth from what I see." 

The President turned around so he could see what his daughter meant. "If he needs pointers, I'm available. I'm no Arthur Murray, but he was no Jed Bartlet." 

"What are you talking about?" Liz asked focusing on her father again. "I was watching Josh." 

"Right," Bartlet sighed. "Well, he seems to be doing all right without my help." 

"Oh, I'll say," she laughed. 

"Don't take me wrong, he's not as good as your ol' man," he stated. 

"You missed my point, Dad," Liz sighed. 

"Which was?" 

She looked at her father with wide eyes and a smirk. "Josh and Donna." 

"What about them?" Bartlet asked as he continued to dance. 

"What indeed," she waggled her eyebrows. "Oh, I'll give you this; you're more convincing than Josh is at playing ignorant. He nearly vaulted over Senator Kennedy once he spotted her." 

"Well, she's been gone for quite sometime," Bartlet explained. "Her father recently passed away, and she stayed home to take care of things. I imagine that Josh was happy to see her." 

"I imagine he'd be happier to see her at his place later," Liz giggled. 

"I'm sorry?" he asked. "What was that you just said? I couldn't make it out through all that giggling. I'll never understand why women giggle." 

"To make men worry and to pass secrets effectively," she patted him on his shoulder. "I was just remarking about Josh and Donna's relationship." 

Bartlet pursed his lips. "It is one of the weirder working relationship I've ever seen." 

"Working?" Liz asked. "Oh, I'll say it works. Good for them, too. Josh needs someone nice and very patient." 

"God knows she has been patient with that boy," he agreed. "She's an excellent assistant for him." 

"I don't think he needs assistance in this matter, Dad," Elizabeth responded. "I mean, he seems to know what he's doing. I can't tell you how shocked I am, too. I mean, I guess I think of Josh as being... I don't know, incapable of this. But I've got to hand it to him; he appears to have the routine down." 

Bartlet glanced in their direction again. "His feet do seem to be keeping their own." 

"I don't mean dancing, Dad, "she said with a frustrated sigh and a nod towards them. "I mean... You know.... their relationship." 

"Elizabeth, what are you talking about?" 

"They're together, Dad," she revealed. 

"Most people are when they dance," Bartlet argued. 

"I don't mean dancing," Liz clarified. 

"What?" he asked in disbelief. 

"You've worked elbow to elbow with Josh for months," she stated. "How did you not know this?" 

"Know what?" 

"They're an item," Liz said again quietly. "A couple. A thing." 

Bartlet shook his head. "No. Can't be." 

"Dad, look at them," Elizabeth smiled gently. "Don't look at your staff members; look at those two people over there dancing. See at the way they're looking at each other; the way they're moving in perfect rhythm. They don't know there is anyone else in this room right now. They don't even know the President of the United States staring at them--and you really shouldn't do that Dad because it might attract attention they obviously don't want." 

The President looked at them for a long moment. It suddenly became clear. "Well…." 

"She's good for him--good to him," Liz said. 

"I suppose as long as it's out of the office, he's free to pursue whatever he wants," Bartlet answered. 

"I wonder if he believes that," she mused. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Zoey told me that the two of you haven't been... on the same page for a while now," Liz replied. "I know how stressful this election was and the uncertainty surely didn't bring out the best in anyone, but you'll never find anyone in this city, in this country, who is dedicated to you the way these people are, Dad. Josh included. I know things were tense for a while, but I also know that Josh means a lot to you--they all do--but Josh is special." 

"It might be that Josh and I have said things not long ago that were not the most delicate," Bartlet said. "But what's done is done. And believe me; I know the sacrifices they all make." 

"They're all devoted to you, Dad," Liz reminded her father. "I just... It's just that it seems to me that Josh had to make more sacrifices than the others." 

"Elizabeth, I'm not asking him - or anyone - to give up their lives entirely while they serve," he argued. "And yes, Josh has had to make sacrifices, but he chose to." 

"He didn't choose all of it," she remarked. "He's been put through his own private Hell, and he has to live with that for the rest of his life." 

"I know that," Bartlet sighed. "No one chose that and if I could have prevented any of it, you know I would have." 

"That's not what matters now," Liz sighed. "Dad, I know what you all do supercedes most everything else in your lives right now. It should. What you all do is important. But... It shouldn't mean that everything else has to be put on hold. I see something else besides the two of them dancing right now. I see the facade that they're just colleagues. Josh wouldn't do anything--ever--to put his job second, but it doesn't have to be first every second of the day, does it? He's a smart guy, but I don't think he understands that he can live and work. He's always so locked into being Leo's Deputy that I think he doesn't know he can be just Joshua Lyman sometimes." 

"Well, Elizabeth, it's not up to me to tell him how to live his life," he said firmly. 

"No, but it wouldn't hurt if someone gave him some advice on how not to ruin his life," she pointed out. "He respects you and your opinion, Dad." 

"It's not my place," he said regretfully. 

"Your approval means a lot to him--more than he lets on even now," Elizabeth said. "Josh is all business and he does a good impersonation of a calculating politician, but he wouldn't have let that story about his problems after the shooting out if it was for someone he didn't believe in. Maybe if he knew you didn't expect him to put everything else on hold until you leave office, it might be helpful." 

"Why is this so important to you?" 

"I've always been fond of Josh," she said. "He intrigues me. On the surface, he's this major political guy and underneath he's like a little kid at heart. He's just… For being one of the beltway's ego kings, he's very likeable… endearing, really. Besides, Annie wanted to do something nice for him." 

"Annie? Why?" 

"She's taking German this year and she was having trouble." 

Bartlet looked at her. "I know German; she should have asked me for help." 

"Well, she was in the office the other day and was going to..." she began. 

"We were supposed to have breakfast, but I got tied up," he explained. "I apologized to her over lunch; she never mentioned she needed any help." 

Liz nodded. "That's because by noon, she didn't need any. She was working on some extra credit she needs to do to bring her grades." 

"I can help her now," Bartlet said, looking around for the teenage girl. "We can have someone go get her books and we can…." 

"Dad," Elizabeth chuckled. "You're at your party; you're not tutoring." 

"My granddaughter's education is more important than this party," Bartlet stated. 

"Well, she found help on her own already," Elizabeth clarified. "She snagged Josh in the hallway yesterday morning, and he helped her." 

"I didn't know Josh knew German." 

"You didn't?" Liz gasped, feigning shock. "You didn't know some inane detail about an employee. I'm shocked, Dad. I'll have to tell Mom." 

"Elizabeth," he scolded. 

"Fine," she smirked. "Instead, I'll tell her is that you had no idea one of your senior advisors was seeing his assistant all this time." 

"All this time?" Bartlet repeated. "How long has this been going on?" 

"That's hard to say," Liz said. "That thing about the dancing was just what I observed myself. Mom told me about the two of them months ago." 

"Your mother knew?" he stopped dancing. "And she didn't tell me?" 

"It would appear not." 

"Where is she?" Bartlet demanded. 

"That's another thing that you don't know," Elizabeth smirked and kissed his cheek. 

"Are you done torturing your father?" 

"For now." 

Bartlet smiled. "Good. Now go get my granddaughter. It's time for her dance with Gramps." 

"Okay," she replied, taking his hand. "But for the record, her father taught her to dance--I have it on video tape." 

"That's your version." 

***************** 

"It's... uh... this is different than last time," Josh said. "The Ball." 

Donna smirked. "Certainly. You had me working throughout the entire evening." 

"Night is still young," Josh said, returning the smirk. 

"Of course," Donna said, rolling her eyes as her left had gently rubbed his shoulder. Josh responded by tightening his hold on her waist. 

"So you never did answer me," Josh said. "Did you steal this dress? See, 'cause if you did, you'd better not be seen next to the President. Image problems, you know..." 

Donna cut him off. "My mother bought this dress for me." 

"Ah." 

"Yes." 

"Donna, I..." Josh started. Sam suddenly appeared by their side. 

"Donna!" Sam smiled as he stepped between them. He turned towards Josh. "Josh, Burk and Rossiter wanted to see you for two minutes. I'll take over here, if Donna doesn't mind." 

Josh looked at Donna, and then Sam. "Uh...Sure..." 

"It was good to see you, Josh," Donna offered. 

"Sure," Josh answered. "Um, we'll need to... um, later the thing... you know.... I…" 

She nodded her understanding. "Yes. Sometime." 

"It's really good to see you," he said softly and smiled. 

"Guy gets his face on a few magazines and suddenly he's a primadonna," Sam said as they began to dance. "You look stunning, Donna." 

"Thank you," she blushed. "You're looking very handsome." 

"Thank you," Sam grinned. 

"I really appreciate the note you sent me after my father passed away," Donna said solemnly. "That meant a lot. You're very kind." 

"I'm fond of you, Donna," Sam said. "You know that, don't you?" 

She nodded. 

"Did you come alone?" she asked. 

"Yes," he said confidently. "I did. I don't think there's anything wrong with that, do you?" 

"I'm glad you didn't," Donna said. "I'd never have gotten a moment alone with you." 

"I'm sorry?" Sam asked with some concern. 

"Well, someone as handsome as you would be very hard to have to myself for long," she said. 

"I see," Sam said, feeling slightly odd. "And you mean what by the precisely?" 

"Well, as it is, I can feel a dozen women's eyes (and perhaps a few men's too) boring holes in my back," Donna said. "You're always so good to me, Sam. I wish I could show you how much I appreciate that." 

"Uh…," Sam felt tongue-tied. "Well, Donna. I… uh… That is…. Gee, I…. Leo needs me." 

"What?" 

"I mean, I just remembered that I was going to dance… I mean see Leo before I danced with him, with you," Sam sputtered in a flustered fashion. "I should go be with… I mean see him. Yes, I should go see, uh…." 

"Leo?" Donna offered. 

"Yes," Sam nodded. "I'll see you later." 

He stepped back from her curtly and nodded again. His face had a soft tinge of red to it as he scurried away, leaving Donna. He continued across the room, looking for Josh. 

_What have I done? I kept them apart and now this…. Oh, this is not good. No, this is bad. This is definitely… well, not good._

He scanned the room for Josh but could not locate him. He found Charlie instead. 

"Have you seen Josh?" Sam asked promptly. 

"I've been with the President mostly," Charlie said. 

"Josh hasn't been here?" 

"I said," Charlie replied, "I've been around the President. Josh was dancing with Donna the last time I saw him." 

"Well, I cut in," Sam said. He observed Charlie's dagger glare. "It was just so that he could talk with…. Doesn't matter. I didn't' want to do it. I think they should dance. Together. The two of them. It's better than the two of us." 

"You and Josh?" 

"Donna and I," Sam said. "She's… Charlie, what would you think if a woman said you were handsome and felt fortunate that she was able to dance with you?" 

"It would depend on the woman," Charlie nodded. 

"No it wouldn't," Sam said. 

"Yeah, it would," Charlie affirmed. "See, if it was a scary woman, I'd think I was being punished. If it was a…" 

"Could we focus on my problem and not your libido?" Sam interrupted. "I think Donna just…. I think she might have what could only be the teeniest of small crushes on me. I wrote her this note after her father died, and I think it meant a lot to her." 

"What did the note say?" 

"I don't recall," Sam said. 

"Maybe you proclaimed your undying love for her," Charlie offered. 

"No, I didn't," Sam said hotly. "I mean, I don't have …. I don't feel that way about Donna. I mean, I love her, but not like a go-home-with-me-tonight kind of love. More of a thanks-for-listening-and-for-finding-that-file-for-me kind of love." 

"Fine line," Charlie nodded. 

"Tell me about it," Sam sighed. "So now, I'm afraid she might… you know, have this thing for me. Which, I mean, I'm flattered, but it's just not going to happen. I don't want to hurt her. She's had a rough few weeks. And then there's Josh." 

"Josh has a crush on you, too?" Charlie asked. 

"No," Sam said quickly. 

"Josh has a crush on you?' 

Sam sighed and hung his head. "Charlie, you're just slapping me around because you can, right?" 

"Pretty much." 

*****************

Abbey Bartlet made her way through the mesh of guests to arrive at her husband's side. He was sporting his inquisitive look. She could tell from the way he clasped his hands behind his back that he would be requesting information from her that he and was expecting a little battle before getting it. She was ready for the match. She took a final sip of her champagne then offered him a broad grin. 

"Abigail," he said formally. "Out with it." 

"Oh, what is it now?" she said innocently. "What did I do? Or what is it you think I did?" 

"No, no, no...," he waggled a finger at her. "The question is: What didn't you tell me?" 

"That list is too long to recite here tonight," Abbey shook her head. "Better narrow it down for expediency's sake. What specifically are you asking about?" 

"Take a look, Cupid," he pointed to the dance floor. "There. Donna." 

"Donna's back," Abbey smiled. "That's wonderful. What's the problem?" 

"I'm talking about what's happening over there." 

"It's called dancing, Jed," Abbey sighed. "It's legal and doesn't need a historical dissertation." 

"Did you know that they have some sort of relationship?" he asked. 

"Donna and Congressman Skinner?" 

Bartlet glared at her. "What does Matt Skinner have to do with this?" 

"Jed," Abbey chuckled. "Matt is dancing with Donna." 

"You knew about them," Bartlet said. "Josh and Donna." 

Abbey smirked. "Ah, yes. That." 

"Yes," Bartlet said. "That. What is it that that is precisely and why didn't you tell me?" 

"Well," she replied. "I may in fact have some knowledge of..... something or other. As for not telling you, I didn't think it was any of your business. After all, they're consenting adults. Plus, I think they're kind of cute together; they have this Hepburn/Tracy quality." 

"Seriously?" 

"How can someone as smart as you miss this?" she sighed. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, you're not the only one who didn't figure it out. My money is on that Josh is still in the dark about it too." 

"How so?" he asked 

"She's not an Electoral Vote or a political strategy," Abbey said. "I think she baffles him. He'd better be good to her or he'll regret it the rest of his life." 

"Well, they can't all be like you and me," Bartlet observed. 

"I wonder if she's staying," Abbey said. 

"I'm sorry?" 

"Zoey heard something about Donna going home," Abbey replied. "She didn't know if that meant Donna was returning to Wisconsin for good to help her mother." 

"Really?" the President asked. "Now, that would be a shame. Wed hate to lose such a good assistant." 

"Josh would lose more than that, Jed." 

**************** 

_1:47 a.m._   
_Georgetown_   
_Josh's apartment_

Josh solemnly ascended the stairs inside his apartment building, his mind jumbled with images from the night. He remembered the look of gratitude from the President as he addressed the crowd at the Ball; the look of pride in his mother's eyes during her White House tour; the look of Donna. She reminded him that night of Cinderella – a beautiful woman who disappeared into the night without a trace. Only he didn't have a glass slipper to take home. When he had returned from his discussion with the congressman, Sam informed Josh that Donna had left for the evening. 

Josh put the key in the lock and opened the door. He draped his topcoat over a chair and tossed his keys on the coffee table then sat down on the sofa. He turned on the television and flipped the channels. Finding nothing of interest, he flicked it off. 

Josh made his way down the short hall to his bedroom. He didn't remember closing the door when he left earlier in the day, nor leaving a light on. He cautiously turned the knob and opened the door. 

The room was bathed in candle light. Votives adorned the dresser, the window sill and the nightstand. Lounging comfortably on the bed, in a long, sleek negligee, was Donna. 

"Hi," she said casually. 

"Hi?" he questioned. 

"It's later," she said casually. 

"Yeah," he said. "You left the Ball without so much as a goodbye; you've been here the entire time?" 

"I've always thought the candlelight was beautiful," she remarked as she rose from the bed. 

"Yeah," Josh said absentmindedly. 

"I figured you were still busy with all the preparations and basking in the glory at being the Poster Boy for the Democratic Party," she replied, answering his question from earlier. "Didn't want to interrupt the master at work." 

"See, the words sound like a compliment but the tone—no so much," he answered. 

"I like to keep you guessing," she offered. 

"Works for me," he said softly. 

Josh slowly walked towards Donna. He stared into her bright blue eyes and sighed. 

"I see your tie is straight," Donna observed. 

"My mother tied it," he replied. "So…. You've been waiting." 

"Uh uh," she said. "It's a good thing you got here when you did." 

"Why's that?" 

"Because I feel like if I don't get to kiss you right now, I could die," Donna said. 

"I see," he answered. "A lot of pressure there." 

"Only on your lips." 

She kissed him and hte moment lingered. The look on his face afterward was both puzzled and intrigued. 

"So, does this mean you're staying?" he asked in husky and strained tone. "I mean in town. I heard you were only going into the office tomorrow to clean off your desk." 

"Yeah," she smiled at the pitiful look in his eyes. "Clean off whatever you've toss on since I left. Dust off my shelves. Put up my new calendar. Go through my e-mail. That kind of thing." 

"Oh," he nodded as what she called Hppy Dimple appeared. "Good thinking." 

"I know," she replied as she laced her arms around his neck. "Now, about this." 

"Yeah," he said looking around again. "I was going to ask about.... this." 

"I know we have this rule about, uh, visiting.... only when we're on the road, but I thought that tonight could be a little exception." 

"An exception?" he asked as Happy Dimple vanished to be replaced by his nearly identical sibling, Concerned Dimple. 

As a man who dealt with legislation, she could see that the concept of an exception that was undefined troubled him. She paused then rephrased. 

"Actually, it's more like a special occasion," she stated. "Like a holiday." 

"Okay," he nodded as Happy Dimple promptly returned. "The government recognizes 13 federal holidays. I work for the governemnt." 

"That's right," she nodded as she tugged on the ends of his tie, pulling it loose. "Now, I think you're a bit over dressed for this occasion." 

***************** _January 21_   
_Josh's Apartment_   
_6:43 a.m._

The chirping of Josh's pager stirred him from sleep instantly. He grabbed his beeper off the night stand and silenced it. He recognized Charlie's phone number at the office requesting a return call. Josh rubbed his eyes and finished waking. The room was quiet except for the soft sounds of breathing. 

Donna lay entangled in the sheets. It was an odd feeling waking to find her there still. Odder still was that he was glad to see her. If he had thought about it at all the previous evening (which he didn't) he would have expected her to be gone at morning light. Rather than wake her, Josh grabbed clothing from the back of the chair in the corner of the room and slipped into the living room after he was dressed. He dialed Charlie's number. 

"Charlie Young," the aide said crisply as he answered the call. 

"Yeah, this is Josh," Josh replied. "What's going on?" 

"Yeah," Charlie said. "When can you be here?" 

"Half an hour," Josh said without any discernable emotion. "You know what this is about." 

"I don't know what this is about," Charlie said. 

"It's okay, Charlie," Josh said. "I just meant, do you know if he wants me to bring the thing in writing or do I work that out with Leo?" 

"Josh, I honestly don't know anything more than he asked me to call you when I thought you'd be awake," Charlie said. "He would like to see you as soon as possible this morning in the residence." 

"The residence?" Josh asked. "So I'm dealing with Leo for the official stuff later. Got it." 

"You'll be here in half an hour?" Charlie responded. 

"Sure," Josh said and disconnected. He took a deep breath and nodded. 

_ So, this is what it feels like to get fired._   


**Up Next, Chapter 3:_Res Ipsa Loquitor_**


	3. Res Ipsa Loquitor

**Title**: **HEAVEN AND HELL, _Res Ipsa Loquitor _**(Chapter Three)  
**Authors: Enigmatic Ellie and Westwinger247**  
**Webpage: http://wing_nuts.tripod.com**  
**Notes**: _This is the sequel to THE QUEST. Thanks to those of you who followed the storyline from one series to the next.  
  
  
The Presidential Residence_

_7:45 a.m.  
  
_ Josh arrived at the White House in roughly the time he had promised Charlie. He was greeted by the aide and the two walked to the residence together, though Josh had been there many times without an escort.

"Some party last night," Charlie remarked.

"How did.... Oh, you meant the thing," Josh shook his head. "Never mind."

"What did you think I meant?"

"I didn't think anything," Josh lied horribly.

"Okay," Charlie replied skeptically as he knocked briefly on the sitting room door and announced Josh's arrival. He left with a hopeful look on his face as Josh entered the room. 

"Josh," the President said blandly.   
  
"Good morning, Mr. President," Josh replied feeling eerily calm. 

His drive to the office had been peaceful as well. He expected to be more anxious or perhaps even angry, but something in him would have no part of those feelings. There was a certain amount of regret he knew he would feel when packing up his office, but he was satisfied that he had done all he could and did not see any fault in his actions. There was the nagging question of what he had done to malign the President, but that question had been around so long it was just part of the day and was nothing he dwelled upon any longer.  
  
"Are you going to come into the room or do you prefer to stand in the doorway?" Bartlet asked as he returned to his seat by the window.

Josh entered the sitting room and approached the President. A copy of the _Washington Post_ lay on the table at the President's elbow near his coffee cup. It was open to the middle of the first section. A small headline near the bottom of the page caught Josh's eye. It was not often a piece of Danny Concannon's was buried so deep in the paper. Then again, Josh reasoned, the topic hardly was worth writing about for Danny. The story was brief--a sidebar to his larger story about the President's speech the day before.

"Did you read _The Post _today?" Bartlet asked slipping his glasses on his nose and glancing at the paper again. 

"Uh.... I... no," Josh answered. He could not recall the last time he had not read _The Post_--even just the front page headlines--by this time of the day.

Bartlet eyed him carefully for a moment waiting for more of an answer. When he realized none was forth coming, he shook his head.

"Didn't spin that very well now did you?" the President remarked. "I read that the 11th Amendment has got to go."

"I said that it merits revisiting," Josh corrected him. "It was written at a time when the Framers were still worried about a Loyalist gaining popularity and handing the country back to the British crown. It seems antiquated to claim we are a free people and that all citizens enjoy equal rights while preventing people from running for President just because they were not born on this soil. Because of it, a brilliant woman like the Governor of Michigan, who would make a fabulous candidate for President, can never seek the office because of a misfortune in her parents' timing. She is an American citizen by birth but was physically born in Canada ; because of that she'll never lead this nation from the Oval Office. It seems asinine to think the intense scrutiny of the public and the Press--not to mention the strength of the other branches of government--would be sufficient to keep her from giving the country over to Canada for extra parking. Both sides of the political spectrum can make the same argument. Is anyone in the GOP going to question the patriotism and loyalty of Henry Kissinger?"

"I see," Bartlet said looking at the article again before refolding the paper. "You wrote a paper they mention? You did it in college?"

Josh nodded. It had earned him a solid and insulting C at the time, he recalled. His professor was as unimpressed with his stance and argument as the President appeared.

"And you wrote it anticipating that the Democrats would have a prospective candidate with a Canadian birth certificate in the new millennium?"

"I wrote it for Harry Meinke," Josh said. "He was my grandfather's best friend and served in the New York State legislature for 30 years."

"I know the name," Bartlet recalled. "He was quite powerful in the Party. Joe Kennedy detested him."

"Publicly," Josh nodded, cutting the story short and trying not to sound defensive. "Harry was brilliant and could have been governor, but he wouldn't run because he felt it was a stepping stone to higher office. He was born Poland to American parents, and though he was American at birth and lived here from age 3 until he died, he could never be President. It made me mad. Years later I wrote a paper and that's that."

"So you're saying you now support the 11th Amendment and are withdrawing your support for the Governor of Michigan and Henry Kissinger?"

"I wasn't back peddling," Josh stated. "I just meant that when I wrote the paper... I think that I knew more then than I know now."

"I agree," Bartlet nodded.

"Yes, sir," Josh sighed dejectedly. He could not wait for this to be over. He would not enjoy leaving the White House, but no longer serving as the President's punching bag was an appealing prospect.

"Josh, are you going to sit?" Bartlet asked, gesturing to the chair beside him. 

Josh nodded and took the seat as requested. He stared at his hands and decided to let the President get around to firing him in his own time. Josh glanced briefly at his watch. If it was to be believed, he still had 35 minutes before he would be late for meeting his mother; she would celebrate his unemployment.

"I didn't see you last evening," Bartlet remarked. "I mean other than that brief nod and remark I received when your mother greeted me."  
  
"I meant no disrespect, sir," Josh said truthfully. "There was a lot going on, and I didn't feel it was my place to occupy your time with idle chat about the weather."  
  
"Like that," Bartlet nodded, sensing the cool tone in Josh's reply. It was not an insult. It was indifference laid over the veneer of respect Bartlet was no longer sure he deserved from the man.  
  
"Your mother enjoyed the festivities last evening?" he asked.  
  
"Yes, sir," Josh replied. "She thinks the White House throws a quality party."  
  
"Will she be visiting long?"  
  
"She's going to Baltimore today to visit one of her cousins," Josh said. "I'm supposed to be meeting her for breakfast after this."  
  
"I see," Bartlet nodded. "Then I suppose I should get to the point."  
  
"No need," Josh said. "While there may be some right you have to say the actual words, I would ask that you allow me to offer up my resignation first. Despite the current climate, I believe there is a strong case to be made that I have earned the right to do at least that."  
  
"Oh you do?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Josh replied frankly. "Whatever error or egregious insult I perpetrated remains a mystery to me, and frankly I'm beyond caring any longer. However, I am still prepared to advise you--and Leo would agree with me--that the cleanest course of action for the administration is to allow me to resign for my reasons. I don't mean this to sound like a threat, but there will be hell if you do not."  
  
"How is that not supposed to be a threat?"  
  
"Because it's not," Josh replied simply. "Sir, I'm not the one that will cause the problem. The questions that would arise if you fire me now, without any immediate or obvious provocation, would start scandal rumors. I am prepared to answer questions to reporters truthfully and without malice, but I am decidedly uninformed as to the reason I am no longer wanted within the administration. My response of 'I don't know' would sound like a cover story and at the start of the new term, that would bog down any number of legislative plays Leo needs to call. My resignation--for my own reasons--will cause some stirring, but the thing dies with the news cycle at the end of the week."  
  
"So you've thought this out?"  
  
"It's what you pay me to do," Josh answered.  
  
"Like CJ's memo?"  
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
"Toby asked CJ to draft a memo on how best to handle a story regarding your separation from your current post," Bartlet said. "Why would he do that?"

"Because I asked him to," Josh replied.

"When?"

"December 16."

"That's the day after the vote," Bartlet noted. "She's had this assignment for a month, and I've noticed that it is causing her a combination of attention deficit disorder and heart burn. My understanding is that her scenario sounds greatly like what you just proposed. What, curiously, would be your reasons? Surely not this Constitutional thing. You killed that last night."  
  
"It... I know it would have been convenient to use, but I'd rather as much truth as possible be used--if only to leave nothing for reporters to turn up later," Josh replied.   
  
"So what are your reasons?"  
  
"I think we can easily make a solid case of better offers in the private sector," Josh replied.

"Yeah, that's what you want to tell the press, but I'm asking what your reasons are?"  
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
"You're determined to leave," Bartlet remarked. "Tell me why. Don't be shy. If it's me, I can take it. You've said worse to me in the Oval Office."  
  
"Due respect, Mr. President," Josh replied, feeling the anger, so far absent, start to rise. "I disagree. I admit at times my mouth overrides my better manners, but I can think of no instance in the 12 months when I have done or said anything that was..."  
  
"All right," Bartlet waved him off. "I'll concede the point. What I don't understand is why you are."  
  
"Sir?"

"You gave up," Bartlet said, sounding amazed. "Josh, you baffle me. Just when I think I've got you figured out, you do something that lets me know I don't understand you. Like just now; you gave up. I don't like to see that from anyone, but from you I find it incredible. You're the one.... Man, the rest of us stood in that room, there in the Bullpen, and waited for the inevitable. But where were you? On the phone reversing gravity. Before Illinois came in, I was going to liken you to the radio operator for the Titanic who went down with the ship still calling out an SOS to anyone who would listen. I've thought about it since, and I realized I was wrong. You know who you are? You're the guy who hits a pop fly at the bottom of the ninth inning of the Seventh Game of the World Series who then sprints down to First Base because..."

"You're not out until the umpire says so," Josh finished the sentence with a flat tone and expression that indicated he did not think there was any other course. Anything else would be illogical.

"So why are you doing it now?" Bartlet asked.

"Sir, I think we both know there is nothing left I can accomplish here," Josh began.

"Oh, so you've gotten Appropriations to give back all that money they raided from the Education Bill, beaten the insurance lobby into submission so they'll reduce health care costs and rid the country of assault rifles?" Bartlet asked. "My, my, no wonder I didn't see you last night and you look tired today. You were a busy boy weren't you?"

"Sir?"

Bartlet observed the man beside him sporting the bewildered expression. For as intelligent and insightful politically as Josh could be, the one thing he failed to understand was his own blamelessness in the current circumstance. Without realizing it, he was still protecting the President by absolving him of his guilt in their situation. Bartlet was touched by this. It was the type of loyalty he thought Josh only reserved for Leo.

"Toby and Sam give my thoughts words," he began. "Nancy and Fitzwallace get me into and out of the war zones and hot spots. CJ is my warrior with the press. Leo keeps the mad house running. And then there's you. You are my political navigator. Without you, the ship runs aground. And now you want to abandon us."

"This isn't about dissatisfaction with my job," Josh said quickly.

"It's about my dissatisfaction with you?" Bartlet ventured.

Josh met the President's eyes and answered clearly and calmly.

"Yes, sir," he replied promptly. 

"Truth to power," Bartlet remarked shaking his head. "I've noticed some people have trouble with that when talking to the President. Not you though; from the moment I met you, you've been able to tell me what you think regardless of consequence. I confess it is not always what I want to hear, and you are wrong at times, but you know that and still it never stops you. I have had a strange way of showing it recently, but I appreciate that. So what I am about to say is long overdue. I owe you an apology, Josh. I've acted horribly toward you. Several years ago, I promised you that I would never make you feel like I didn't know your value. I betrayed that pledge, and I am sorry."

Josh said nothing. He could see the sincerity in the President's eyes as clearly as he could hear it in his words. Though some part of his mind would remain curiously, Josh no longer cared why the cold war had started; it was irrelevant and time to move on.

"Mr. President, I..."

"Josh, we still have a lot left to do and there's no re-election worries to slow us down," Bartlet cut him off. "I need you guiding us. I want you to stay."

"Of course, sir," Josh nodded.

Bartlet smile thinly for a moment. Many men would have held on to their scorn and tried to use their grudge for advantage at time like this. But not Josh. Bartlet quietly chastised himself again for his behavior as he realized his staffer had dismissed the previous animosity and would never speak or think of it again. Bartlet then removed his glasses and fixed Josh with a calculated stare that let the younger man know that the topic of conversation had just switched. What the new direction was to be, Josh did not know.

"Now, there's one other thing that, after much contemplation, I think needs to be said," Bartlet began. "I mean this as advice from one man to another. I've juggled a career in politics for 40 years as the front man--the one in the Press, casting the vote and putting his name on the ballot. There is life outside these walls."

"Yes, sir," Josh said still mystified.

"Which, apparently you know as well," Bartlet continued, his eyes unmistakably trailing to the slight red mark at Josh's collar. Donna had been quite playful and the mild nip she gave him was only just visible still. He had noticed the mark when he was dressing but did not think it was obvious. From the president's gaze, he knew that was incorrect.  
  
"I.... Yes, sir," Josh said and unconsciously rubbed the mark.  
  
"Dead give away, son," Bartlet shook his head knowingly. "That's how my mother always caught me. Best if you pretended you didn't know it was there. Or do you have a logical explanation for that?"  
  
"Mosquito?" Josh ventured, expression clearly condemning him.  
  
"Yes, they are quite a nuisance in January," Bartlet noted dryly. "I would have gone for frostbite; then again, I'm not the political genius in the room. Well, whatever. That being said, you're not my son so I won't lecture you--the First Lady is another story, lucky for you she and the girls are still sleeping."

"I'm not sure what this...."

"I just wanted to say that I trust that situations would not arise to compromise the integrity of your position," the President continued.  
  
"Sir...."  
  
"Let me finish, Josh," Bartlet said calmly. "I'm saying I trust your judgments. If I didn't think you could conduct yourself in a professional manner, one befitting your position, you would not be here. What I'm trying to get at is.... I understand that the people who work here sacrifice a great deal. It's one of the puzzling inequities in life that to devote yourself to the bettering of the lives of others, you must first surrender so much of yourself. Time is a precious thing so many waste. It would be a crime if you did not pause every once in a while to appreciate your good fortune and enjoy life. We have important work to do here, and the clock is running, but there is a life to be had outside this building, outside this entity of politics. Don't squander all of your minutes for this administration. There is a time for work--a great deal of it--but what is the point of trying to make life better if you do nothing to enjoy your own life?"  
  
"Um, thank you sir," Josh said with puzzlement.  
  
"Impropriety and abuse of power is tolerated by no one in this White House, but we are also not puritanical," Bartlet added. "Just remember that the office is the office. Leaving the office at the office--now that's tricky."  
  
"Thank you, Mr. President," Josh said awkwardly. 

Bartlet considered Josh and could see he had no clue what he had just been told. Bartlet chuckled dryly for a moment. Abbey and Liz were right. Josh still had much to learn.

"Res ipsa loquitor," Bartlet said.

"Sir?"

"It's Latin," the President replied. "Seriously, how is it that no lawyer in this building is knows any Latin?"

"I understood it," Josh answered. "I meant what..."

"The thing speaks for itself," Bartlet translated unnecessarily. "You are who you are, Josh. No reason to run away from it; live your life; enjoy it and all it offers you. Some thing are precisely what they seem."

"Yeah," Josh said, still no further enlightened but thinking it best he left things that way before getting a dissertation on anything that would make him late to meet his mother. "Will that be all?"  
  
"Yeah," Bartlet said. "That and don't give Leo a stroke."

Josh rose and thanked the President as he departed. He was exiting the residence and heading back toward the West Wing when he encountered Leo striding purposefully in his direction. 

"You spoke to him?" Leo asked anxiously. He looked perturbed and worried--a comforting to sight to Josh as it meant things were returning to what passed for normal in his world.

"Yeah," Josh answered in a relaxed manner.

"Well, what did he said?"

"He said I can have your parking space," Josh answered.

  
*****************

_The White House_

_Jan. 21, 8:00 a.m. _

Sam strolled through the lobby at the northwest entrance with a large cup of coffee from _Poppytwist_ in hand. He decided to come into the office to address some minor issues that had been set aside while the Inaugural Address was being written - phone messages, briefing memos, and cleaning off his desk that Sam believed to still be there under the mountains of paper. Sam also came in to think about another problem - Donna. She had a crush on him - he was certain of it. After thinking it through during the night, he was convinced it was a dangerously deep crush that would force him to break her heart if he didn't act fast. 

Sam was flattered that a beautiful woman such as Donna was attracted to him, but he felt overwhelming guilty not sharing those feelings. He wondered if his monstrous guilt was due to the efforts he made to keep Josh from attempting to start a less than career oriented relationship with her over the previous year. He felt terribly guilty about that and now with Donna no longer looking to Josh as a possible source to assuage her womanly needs it was doubly troubling. 

_This is bad karma,_ he thought. _This is like a Greek play. In keeping them apart, I turned Donna on to me. Fate's cruel sense of humor. I inadvertently made her become attracted to me. By constantly being there - keeping her and Josh separate. Then that note. I don't even remember what I wrote other than I was sorry she lost her father. And I was sorry. It's sad that he passed away; how could I not see she was vulnerable and would be looking for comfort and solace. It's my fault. _

He rounded the corner and entered the Communications Bullpen. The bullpen was virtually empty, save the sound of thumping coming from his boss's office. 

"Good morning to you, Toby," Sam said as he appeared in the doorway. "What are you thinking about?" 

Toby caught the sphere and glared at his deputy. "Ways to fire you so you can go work at that Pippytart place." 

"Pop…never mind," Sam sighed. "Speaking of being fired. Has anyone seen…?" 

"His car was in the parking lot when I got here," Toby replied. 

"It's not there now," Sam remarked. He had looked; Josh's spot was vacant. 

"I talked with Charlie who said that Josh was in the Residence first thing this morning," Toby continued. "Charlie didn't see him leave." 

Sam shook his head. "His door is closed. Did personnel lock it? I mean, if he cleaned it out…Or would security know because..." 

"No one seems to know anything - which is the kind of thing you like to learn about the White House staff the day after the Inauguration," Toby said. 

"Leo?" 

"Busy with the President," Toby said. "The Ghana thing." 

Sam flopped down on the couch. "Right, so do we call him?" 

"Tried," Toby said. "No one at his apartment. No answer on his cell." 

"So we wait to read it in the Post on Monday?" 

"Seems that way." 

"And you're okay with this?" Sam asked. 

"I have a choice?" Toby countered. 

"Toby!" Sam replied. "This is Josh we're talking about. You remember him? The guy that saved our jobs?" 

"The President was the one who was elected," Toby reminded Sam. "Josh was part of the team." 

"You said was," Sam interrupted. "You know damn well that... Toby, this is Josh. Friendship aside, he's damn good at what he does. The guy is…" 

"He's the guy that screwed up more times than…," Toby said calmly. "He serves at the pleasure of the President and if his mind's made up, it's made up. It's not that I don't like Josh. You're right; he's a pro, a political All Star, but he's also quick tempered and irrational at times." 

"And the rest of us aren't?" Sam muttered. 

Toby looked at his deputy, noting the look of culpability that washed over Sam's face. "It looks like that finally caught up with him." 

"What is Leo doing about this?" 

"Nothing," Toby said. 

"Nothing?" 

"I'm sorry; did I stutter?" 

"Toby, the things Josh has done for Leo," Sam shook his head. "I just think that he deserved better than this. I know Josh doesn't tell me everything. He's inside on things that I don't care to know about right now, but he's there because they trust him and they should trust him. What the hell happened to change that? We won." 

"Well, that game's over and we've got a new one to play," Toby said. 

"Right," Sam agreed. "So what I'm saying is, what the hell else is out there that would make them do this to Josh right now? I don't think I'm off track to say that it can't be anything Josh has done. The guy isn't perfect by any stretch, but when he screws up, he does it big time and publicly. So if it's not something he did, what is it? He can't know anything or they'd never ditch him…and what's there to know? So…" 

"So what's out there that they had to sacrifice the guy who scripted our entire legislative agenda for the next two years?" Toby finished. "I've been sitting in this room for the last 20 minutes trying to answer that." 

"And?" 

"I have no idea," Toby said with a dower expression. "And that scares the hell out of me." 

"Someone could ask Donna," Sam offered. 

"How's that?" 

"She might know," Sam said. "Josh tells her things." 

"No he doesn't," Toby disagreed. "When we decided to tell the rest of the staff about the President having MS, he didn't tell her. He couldn't. I had to do it or she would have heard it from Margaret 10 minutes before the President did the interview." 

"That's different," Sam said. "That was about the President. This is about... Unless you think that there's... Toby, this term is supposed to be easier than the first." 

"Did you get that in writing from someone?" 

"Well, at least someone should warn her that that's what could happen," Sam said. 

"Who?" 

"Donna," he continued. "She told me last night that she's coming back to work on Monday or whenever Josh summons here - whichever was first. I think with everything she's been through the last few weeks, the last thing she needs right now is to find out from the news that her boss was fired." 

"So call her," Toby answered. "Of course, bear in mind that your conversation will have to say that you have no reason to know anything that you are saying is true and could be worrying her for no reason at all. If you think that will be helpful, then by all means do so. She takes the news better from you. Every time I talk to her I always bring her bad news. She's starting to avoid me, which I don't mind at times. Donna likes you." 

"She what?" Sam exclaimed. "No, no no. That's not a good thing." 

"I'm going to bite the bullet here and ask," Toby sighed, stroking his beard. "Why isn't that a good thing, Sam?" 

"Well, you see, Toby," Sam stammered, his face beginning to show a rouge tint. "I'm kind of a charming guy." 

"I need to drink more before I talk with you," Toby moaned. 

"No, I'm being serious," Sam asserted. 

"So am I," Toby growled. "Did your charm put your foot in your mouth?" 

"Not exactly," Sam explained. "It started at the ball… Well, actually, it must have started well before that but I didn't realize it and then I stoked the fire within..." 

"The fire?" 

"She said that I was… very… handsome and… and… and…," Sam said uncomfortably. 

Toby rubbed his eyes. "Sam, the Cliff Notes version." 

"Donna's in love with me," Sam blurted out. "And believe me, Toby. I did _nothing_ to encourage it. All I did was tell her she looked nice and she thanked me for the nice note I wrote when her father passed." 

"Donna?" Toby said in disbelief. "She loves you?" 

"She thinks she does, but I'm going to have to let her down easy-convince her that she doesn't," Sam explained. 

"You'll do that?" Toby asked flatly. "Because you know she loves you?"

"I'm fairly certain," Sam said. "She did that thing that women do." 

"And that thing is what precisely?" 

"That giggle thing," Sam said. "I cut in when she was talking, well, dancing with Josh. The look on her face was pretty obvious." 

"And it was for you?" 

"Who else could it be?" Sam asked. "I tapped Josh on the shoulder and she saw me and looked surprised and had this, well, grin and giggle thing going on. I noticed it right off." 

"You did?" Toby responded. "And so this is how you... I'm sorry, let me get this straight. You wrote her a condolence note and said hello to her last night and this has made her fall in love with you?" 

"That's a paraphrased Cliff Notes version, but yes," Sam nodded. "Would it be so bad?" 

"Do you want it to be?" 

"Of course not!" Sam exclaimed. "Well, I mean, Donna's a nice person; she's certainly an attractive woman and would be perfect for… omeone other than me. Donna… She… She's all wrong for me. What do you think I should do?" 

"About what?" 

"About the love thing," Sam sighed. "I mean, didn't you see it last night?" 

"I don't pay attention to you," Toby replied. 

"Toby." 

"Sam," Toby groaned. "I really don't have time for this. You may find this hard to believe, but I'm not playing matchmaker with you or anyone in this White House. That's not what the voters elected the President to do and that's not what the President hired me to do. I suggest you go into your little office and do whatever you think you should do to end whatever drama you think is happening here. Don't come to me and tell me you've found a solution because I don't care. All I care about is getting as much legislation passed in the four years we've been given. And right now, you're wasting my time and the smell of your magical coffee is making me queasy." 

Sam nodded. "Yeah. I'm going to go to my office." 

Toby waved him out. "Try not to make the other assistants fall in love with you on the way." 

*****************

_Union Station_

_8:15 a.m._

"Darling," Anna greeted her son as he arrived at the station and took a seat beside her at the cafe. She explained that she had already ordered and was beginning to think he had forgotten her.

"Sorry," he said briskly as he sat down. "I got called."

"Yes?"

"I hate to ruin your breakfast, but I have some news," he said mildly. "Mom, I work the President of the United States ."

"Still?" she scoffed.

Josh shook his head and chuckled.

"You know, for a Democrat, you manage to sound like a disappointed Republican," he said. "I'm sorry. I tried. I really did, Mom. But the President didn't fire me."

"You've given him a litany of reasons," she remarked. 

"My mother, the character assassin," he said as he sipped the coffee she had ordered for him. "I'll try harder to be less employable in the future."

"You will not," she said disappointedly. "I see your mood is much brighter than last evening. I'm glad you aren't suffering any further anxiety, Joshua. Of course, I will continue to do so..."

"Guilt is not going to work today," Josh cut her off quickly. 

"I see that," Anna replied observing him carefully. "What aren't you telling me?"

"A lot, probably," he answered truthfully. 

"Joshua, you're hiding something from me," she scolded lightly.

"True."

"True?" she repeated with concern. "You're admitting to it? I was being good-humored. Now, I'm actually starting to worry."

"You shouldn't," he said, snagging a piece of toast from her plate.

"I shouldn't?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I'm not hiding anything from you that is any of your business."

"Not my...," Anna thought for a moment then sighed. "Oh, so your good mood is not entirely work related. That can only mean one thing. So tell me, does Miss None of My Business have a name?"

"In fact, she does," Josh replied. "I even know what it is."

"That's encouraging, Darling," Anna said flatly.

She was suspicious of her son's mock coyness. She sensed he was in one of his rare moods when he would not mind her prying--he was all but inviting her to do so. Anna chalked that up to his successful and--to her--disheartening victory at staying employed. She was probably the only mother in her age group who went to bed with prayers that her son would not have his job the next morning.

"Well, Darling," she said in a calculated manner. "You seem content with your world. I suppose I am happy for you. I say suppose only because--while I want nothing more in this world than for you to be happy--I worry when you don't tell me everything. I'm disappointed that your new.... _friend_ doesn't want you to tell your family who she is."

"Not her idea," Josh said. "Mine."

"You're telling me that you're not going to tell me you're seeing someone," Anna summarized. "That's devious and I'm back to being concerned."

"Don't be," he said. "And I never said I was seeing anyone."

"You did," Anna corrected him. "Call it what you want, but I'm you're mother and I know you better than you know yourself. Don't argue with me about that, because I win every time. So you don't want to give me any information. That means it's a secret and you don't keep secrets unless there is trouble around them. Is she married?"

"Yeah, it's both of those," Josh smirked. "It's a secret and it's trouble. The person I'm not seeing is both married and political. You've got me, Mom. I'm dating the First Lady."

"I think that might prompt the President to fire you," Anna said, unamused by his flip response. "There are some instances when I do not appreciate your sarcasm."

"Sorry," he replied instantly. 

"Joshua, you know I worry about you," she began. "You can tell me not to all you like, but it won't change a thing. Your life scares me--more than it probably should, but I believe I have ample reason for my concern. Your dismissing my concern on this subject with flip responses is both disappointing and shameful. I'm not prying for intimate details of you life. I'm expressing my concern. You may be having delightful juvenile time dangling bits of information in front of me that you know will cause me to ask you about but which you have no intention to telling me. I thought I raised you better than that. I'm not some political pawn that you need to goad into making a move to assist you in dominating the political terrarium you inhabit. I'm your mother; I'm the only person in this entire city whose sole concern is your well-being. I find out in a by-the-way fashion that you're having a tryst with some woman you won't talk about and you expect me to say nothing? I suppose I'll just have to find out who she is by reading it in the gossip section of The New Republican next to the story about your latest nervous breakdown."

Josh stared back at her, sick at heart for the anxiety in his mother's voice and the betrayal in her eyes. He wanted to apologize. He had no intention of seeing her off like this. He had been in a genuinely good mood when he arrived. His world was on as even a keel as it had ever been and now...

"It's not like that," he said quietly and contritely. "Mom, it's Donna."

"I'm sorry?" Anna said looking over her shoulder to see if Donna had arrived with urgent business for Josh to attend.

"No," he shook his head. "I mean.... The person. The woman. It's not some evil seductress or whatever you.... Mom? Mom?"

"Darling, I'm sorry," Anna replied. "It sounded like you said Donna." 

***************

_Josh's Apartment_

_8:26 a.m._

Donna stretched in the bed, still half asleep. There was a distant trilling noise disturbing her. She mumbled then groaned.

"Mom, Frannie?" she said sleepily. "Get the phone."

When the noise ceased several minutes later, she opened her eyes. Then she sat upright, clutching the bed sheet to her chest.

"Oh my god," Donna gasped as she realized where she was. 

She looked around the room. No Josh in sight. His cell phone, which always spent the nights just inches from his head regardless of where he slept, was missing.

_That means he's gone. Which means he was awake. Which means he left at some point before I woke up. Which means.... It's light outside. What time... Oh my god. It's almost 8:30. If he left this morning, then he knows... Well, of course he knows I was here. But I stayed here. Oh this is not good. No. No. No._

Uncertain what Josh's reaction to seeing her at his apartment when he returned from… wherever he was made Donna leery. He was pleased she had returned and was grateful she was planning to stay. This she knew. He was pleased on both a professional and personal level, she knew. She did not want to overstay her welcome though, for fear of causing trouble on both fronts. She was determined to pull herself together fast and vacate the premises before he returned. Donna raced around the room, looking for her clothing. 

"Where is it all?" she asked herself desperately as she knelt on the floor and fumbled through the pile of Josh's clothing from the night before. "I know I had underwear on when I came here."

With all her items in hand, she ran to the bathroom and spied the horror staring back at her in the mirror. While she did not consider herself to be vain, Donna was grateful that Josh did not see her looking like this. Medusa and the Bride of Frankenstein images swelled in her mind. 

*****************

_CJ Cregg's Office_

_9 a.m._

"So, I tried calling Josh," Sam said as he wandered into CJ's office.

"Yeah?" she replied as she read the Op-Ed page in The Times.

"Yeah," Sam shrugged. "No answer. I did get a busy signal on his cell phone. I haven't tried that again."

"Busy day ahead of you," CJ remarked.

"I know you're concerned about this whole situation, but let's talk about me," Sam offered as he took a seat uninvited.

"I'm not concerned," CJ corrected. "I am completely without concern."

"You're worried."

"I'm reading," she replied.

"Josh might not have a job, and you'll have to do a River Dance in the press room by lunch time to explain why," Sam said.

"He does, I don't and there's no need," she said still reading.

"How do you know?"

"I have my sources," CJ grinned.

"You saw Josh?"

"Better than that," she said.

"Better than?" Sam puzzled. "Who would know better than Josh if Josh has a job and would tell you?"

"I'm the White House Press Secretary," CJ argued, looking up from her newspaper. "People tell me things. I'm not just a pretty face you boys put up there to entertain the multitudes."

"No kidding."

"Hey," CJ snapped. "I've been doing my job just as long as you have been doing yours, pal. My title might have the word secretary in it, but I don't fetch coffee. When I say I know, then I know."

"Who's your source?" Sam asked doubtfully.

"Danny," CJ said simply.

"Oh that's great," he groaned. "You know, CJ, you might have worked this job for four years, but I think you missed something in the first term. We don't go to the press and ask them what is going on in our backrooms. It shows that we don't know what's going on, and it generally doesn't look good. Not to mention...."

"Thank you for that lecture in Professionalism 101," she cut him off. "I meant that I had breakfast with Danny today, and he asked me what I expected out of Josh's meeting with Avery next week."

"Josh is meeting with Mel Avery?" 

"Yeah, about the shift in funding for the refugee and asylum programs," CJ said. "The Congresswoman's secretary told Danny this morning that they set up the meeting this morning for next Wednesday."

"Well, that's...," Sam paused and nodded. "Alright then."

"Now you," CJ said.

"Me?"

"Yes, you said you wanted to talk about you," CJ continued.

"Oh, that," Sam chuckled dryly. "It was a favor I want, that is, I hoped, you would do for me. Nothing really. Just a little thing. Something I would do for you because I both like you and respected you--not just as a colleague--but as a friend."

"What?"

"Make Donna stop loving me," he said quickly and painfully.

CJ looked up at him with a stony expression for a moment. Then her eyes crinkled and her lips pursed for a moment before a resounding guffaw spilled over her lips. She rocked in her chair for a moment and chuckled further. She eventually took a deep breath.

"Say that again?"

"Donna has a crush on me and I want you to help me make it go away," Sam said uncomfortably.

"How?"

"By telling her to... stop," he offered. "I don't know how. I'm no good at these things."

"Really?" CJ responded. "'Cause you seem pretty good at having women dump you. When did she... What was it you said?"

"I didn't exactly say...."

"You said she loves you," CJ countered.

"I said I think..."

"No," CJ argued. "You said she loves you. Since when?"

"It's a long story," Sam sighed. "I only realized it last night when I was dancing with her and complimented how good she looked."

"So you put the moves on her?"

"I did not!" Sam protested loudly then turned red and lowered his voice. "That is, I did nothing of the kind. No moves. There are no moves."

"Well that's a relief."

"CJ," Sam seethed. "I'm serious. This is a problem. Donna works here and I don't want this to be a thing. Look, she just went through some rough times, and I think she is mistaking my friendship--my dry, platonic and completely non-love oriented friendship--for something more. I don't want to hurt her or embarrass her. She's a sweet person and I like her, I just don't _like_ her."

"Does Josh know?"

"No," Sam said. "And I would rather he didn't know. It would make things more awkward."

"Sam?" CJ said.

"Yeah?"

"You're very sweet to worry about Donna's feelings," CJ said.

"I am," he shrugged.

"I find that so intriguing and chivalrous," CJ continued.

"You do?"

"Yes," she said. "Maybe I'm in love with you, too. Did that girl behind the counter at Poppytwist ever smile at you and say good morning? Because she might be madly in love with you as well. I know what we can do. We can start the Cult of Sam. Sam Worshippers."

"Fine," he said flatly as he stood and prepared to leave. "Make fun of me. Why should you be any different than Toby? I'm worried about how to let a friend down easy and all you can think about is polishing your shtick for the Improv."

He hung his head and started out of the room.

"Hey, Sam," CJ called. "Just so you know, later on, when I dropped my questions about the Ghana thing in your in-box, that is not to be construed in any way as an expression of my love toward you."

"Yeah," he said and skulked down the hall.

*****************

_Georgetown _

_Josh's apartment_

  
Donna quickly showered and prepared to dress when she realized that the only clothing she had available was her evening gown from the night before and her negligee. She hadn't thought to bring a change of clothes because she had rushed to Josh's apartment so that she could be there when he arrived. She also had not planned to spend the entire night with him. She thought she would slip away in the dark hours after he fell asleep. Now she was faced with two choices, formal attire or near nudity as she made her get away. 

She dressed quickly in her gown. She spent several moments looking for her shoes under the bed until she recalled they were in the living room. She grabbed her wrap and padded down the hall to retrieve the final piece to her wardrobe puzzle. She sat down and was beginning to slip her sandals on when she heard the lock tumble. Donna froze.

Josh entered his apartment carrying a small bag, a cup of coffee and a copy of _The Post_under his arm. He stood silent for a moment as he observed her.

"Hi," she said uncomfortably, feeling like she was caught intruding.

"Okay, one of us is inappropriately attired for this moment," he smirked. "I'm betting my pay check that it's not me."

"I was, uh, just on my way out," she replied, trying to keep her voice casual. 

Josh set the items on the counter and tossed his keys beside them. "In that?"

"I was trying to be discrete," she explained.

"Discrete?" he repeated then fixed her with a stare. "You know that it's mid morning and evening wear is... well, for evening?"

"It was this or this," she said waving her negligee briefly. 

Josh fixed her with a thoughtful, appraising expression. Donna waited for more of a reaction. None appeared to be coming.

"I forgot to bring a change of clothing," she said. "I mean, I didn't plan on being here so long that I would need to wear clothing. I mean, other clothing. To go home in. I.... I slept later than I...."

"Poor planning will sink a campaign," he said in a tutorial fashion. 

"Yeah," Donna responded, unable to read his mood. "Is something going on?"

"It's called breakfast," Josh replied, opening the bag on the counter and pulling out a bagel. 

"Breakfast?"

"You've heard of it before," he said as he walked past her and headed to the living room to turn on the TV. 

"Okay," Donna said as she watched him carefully. 

When he did not return, she went to the counter and found another bagel and a smaller cup of coffee in the bag. Both were warm and welcomed. Cautiously, Donna repaired to the living room where Josh sat ignoring his breakfast as he read the paper and simultaneously watched MSNBC. She sat on the couch several feet from him, chewing on her bagel.

"Are you just going to stay here like that?" he asked without looking at her.

"What?" she said startled. She began to feel intrusive again and stood quickly. "No. I was just leaving. I... I'll just..."

"Go put on something else," he said casually. "I noticed last night that you picked up in my bedroom. Find some sweatpants and a T-shirt or something--you probably know where they are better than I do now."

"You want me to change my clothes?" Donna remarked, surprised by the offer.

"You start dressing like that on a Sunday morning to eat a bagel and it'll go to your head," Josh said still reading. "Next thing you know, you'll be wearing a tiara at the office. I have a hard enough time keeping the staff in line; the last thing I need is a princess complex thriving right outside my door."

"What?"

"Change," he said, looking up and meeting her eyes. "If you're staying, you've got to wear something else. You make me nervous wearing that dress. I feel like I'm late for something."

"Oh," Donna remarked, relaxing and feeling slightly foolish for her earlier panic. "You wouldn't mind?"

"Anything other than the ball gown, please," he replied. "I'd even prefer the thing there," he gestured to her negligee, "except I'm trying to concentrate here and that might be distracting."

Donna looked at Josh, who returned to his reading. He was neither upset nor shocked to find her at his apartment still. He made no mention of wanting her to leave but was inviting her to stay. She let a small smile appear on her face. The relationship, such as it was, seemed to be starting on a different path. Donna didn't want to get her hopes up – this was Josh after all -- but his behavior reaffirmed her decision that she had more than just a job in Washington.

"What are you looking at?" Josh asked as he flipped a page.

"I was just thinking about Wisconsin," Donna replied. 

"Whatever," he shrugged. "Don't rearrange anything more in my bedroom."

*****************

_Monday_

_The Oval Office _

_8: 16 a.m._

The staff plodded through their daily early morning meeting with the President, catching up on what had happened in the last 24 hours and what, if anything, they were expected to do about it. Josh's presence was unremarkable--though all were glad to see him. They were more pleased still to notice what was absent: the constant tension between he and the President that had existed for many months. Where it went and why it went, none knew--least of all Josh. But all would have agreed, they were glad it was gone.

"So House is recinding immigration by not having the funding for programs," Bartlet summarized after Josh finished his briefing. "Not the most creative approach."

As he spoken, Charlie entered the room and handed Leo a note. 

"No, sir," Josh said. "I'm sitting down with Congresswoman Avery about her bill to patch the funding in the interim."

"Okay, what else you got?" Bartlet asked his Chief of Staff. Before responding, Leo handed the President the note he had received. Bartlet read it then nodded--it was the confirmation they had been waiting several hours for. Leo doled out details. 

Leo put his reading glasses on. "Early this morning, Eastern Standard Time, a U-2 spy place crashed south of Seoul ." 

"Any casualties?" CJ questioned as she wrote the information down on her notepad. 

"Four - no fatalities," he replied. "The pilot was injured, along with three civilians on the ground. Damage was heavy to a house and a repair shop." 

"Just one pilot?" 

"Yeah," Leo nodded. "The U-2 is a single-seat, high-altitude, reconnaissance aircraft. It's capable of providing highly detailed imagery in all conditions and at any time, day or night." 

"Anything else?" she asked. 

"The Pentagon will have more information later this afternoon," Leo ordered. 

"What about the trade conference?" Josh asked.

"For now, we're still going," Leo said. 

"Should we...," Sam began.

"Work with CJ and get a statement that says we're going but that doesn't mean we have to if we decide not to," Leo said.

"An unequivocal definite maybe," Toby remarked. "Not a problem." 

"Good," Leo nodded. 

"What's next?" Bartlet asked. 

"A couple of the major financial institutions reported a slowdown in the ATMs over the weekend," Sam offered. "The problem was minimal and was up to normal operations by late Saturday." 

"Well, good thing people had access to their money," Bartlet smirked. "Imagine all the cheesy souvenirs that wouldn't have been purchased over the weekend." 

"You mean you didn't like the collector's plate of your likeness?" CJ asked. "I heard that it was one of the top sellers on The Mall." 

"No," he replied. "I am not a fan of The Franklin Mint." 

"Anything else?" Leo asked. 

The staff shook their head. 

"Excellent," Bartlet rose. 

"Thank you, Mr. President," the group replied as they rose. They were on their way out the door when they were stopped. 

"Did I tell you what my wife gave me as an Inauguration gift?" Bartlet asked as he rounded the desk. "By the looks on your faces my guess would be no." 

"What if we say yes?" Toby said. 

The President glared at his Communications Director. "Then you would have already answered it rather than try to bluff your way through my question." 

"You blew that one," Josh whispered to the speechwriter. 

"Something to add, Josh?" Bartlet asked. 

"Not any more, sir," he replied. 

"Good, because I'd hate to think I was interrupting something," Bartlet continued. "As I was saying, Abbey had our home movies transferred from video to DVD format. Amazing how much you can fit on that one little disc." 

"Technology boggles the mind," CJ said flatly. 

"I'm going to choose to ignore that," Bartlet said. "I'm also reconsidering inviting you to view some of the footage." 

"Is it just CJ you're not going to invite?" Josh asked skeptically. 

"Why?" 

"Well, I too made sarcastic comment in regard to you film," he said. "I think it only fair that I be punished as well and deprived of the pleasure of your entertainment. Fair is fair, sir." 

"Is that so?" Bartlet remarked flatly. 

"I had a less than gung-ho thought," Sam offered. "Does that count? Because if so, then I really should be banished. Since we're all being… fair." 

"Mr. President, I think the staff…," Leo began then stopped and shook his head. "No, you guys are on your own here. Never mind, sir." 

"Well put," the President nodded. "With Abbey and the girls' permission, I'll be screening some parts of the movies Friday. You are all welcomed to join me." 

"Welcomed?" Toby repeated. "Is that an order as in 'you're welcome if you want to keep your job' or 'you're welcome to avoid it like the plague should you choose to do so'?" 

Bartlet eyed him carefully. Toby grimaced painfully and wondering when he had picked up Josh's lack of poise in the Oval Office. 

"I will, of course, be there early for any anecdotes you would like to impart in great detail before the showing," Toby said in response to the President's stare. 

"Good," Bartlet replied. "As for the rest of you..." 

"We're not worthy?" Josh offered hopefully. 

"No, no," Bartlet replied quickly. "Let's just say I want you to become as fascinated at the amount of information you can fit onto a disc." 

"Sir?" Toby continued. 

"Yes?" 

"Permission to strangle Josh?" 

Bartlet waved them out of the room. "I don't care what you do to him, just not in the Oval Office."

**Up next, Chapter 4**


	4. Entente Cordiale

**Title**: **HEAVEN AND HELL, _Entente Cordiale _**(Chapter Four)  
**Authors: Enigmatic Ellie and Westwinger247**  
**Webpage: **  
**Notes**: _This is the sequel to THE QUEST. Thanks to those of you who followed us from one series to the next._

_Operations Bullpen_

_Tuesday morning_

"Oh no," Donna gasped in sympathy as she read the news briefs buried on the inside of the morning's paper.

"What?" Josh asked as he cruised out of his office on his way to meet Leo.

"Oliver Thomas is sick," she said in a heartfelt manner.

"Who?"

"Oliver Thomas," she said, shaking her head. She should have figured Josh would not know the name of the children's programming legend.

"Oliver the Conductor?" Josh responded.

"Yes," Donna responded with amazement. "You've heard of him?"

"No, I can read 11 point type from 12 feet away," he said. "Yes, I know who Oliver the Conductor is; I was a child for a few minutes once."

"I wanted to marry him," Donna mused, ignoring the sarcasm, as she read the short piece explain that the 86 year-old had been hospitalized with pneumonia over the weekend. "He was my first love."

Josh shook his head and continued down the hallway, hearing Donna hum the theme song to the program about the train conductor that children across the nation had sung for more than four decades. It was one of those infectious tunes; Josh could hear the strains of if playing in his head as he neared Leo's layer. 

He arrived, having won the battle with the music in his head, to find CJ waiting in Leo's office as well. She said nothing to him but did offer a displeased glance that Josh cared not to question without a witness present. Leo returned moments later from a meeting in the Mural Room that had left him with an expression to rival CJ's. 

"Ah, you," Leo said tersely as he swept into his office and honed in on Josh with a laser stare. 

"What did I do?" Josh asked mystified. He knew why CJ was scowling at him, but he was unaware Leo was sharing notes with her.

"Earl Brennan," the Chief of Staff replied.

"The Ambassador?"

"You know any others?" Leo asked.

"Not really, no," Josh replied.

"Then, yeah, that one," Leo said. "He had lunch with Tommy Carlysle."

"Who is..."

"He's a leading fundraiser for the Green Cross," Leo informed his deputy sharply. 

"The terrorists?" CJ asked.

"No, the rock group," Leo said. "Yeah, the terrorists. Well, not terrorists precisely. Our intelligence reports that they funnel money that they raise to the IRA. They're a pass-though organization."

"And?" Josh asked, not sure why he was being blamed for a lunch date he wasn't invited to.

"Your guy had lunch with their head guy in Dublin ," Leo seethed. "I'm all for throwing off the yoke of Imperialism, but I'd prefer that our Ambassadors don't act like it's 1916 and it's time to storm the GPO in the name of freedom."

"Okay, you just said a lot of stuff there that I don't understand," Josh shook his head. "And I still don't see why you're blaming..."

"You convinced the President," Leo said. "I'm just warning you that you're the one he's gonna use for..."

"Target practice," Josh nodded as Leo trailed off. He was unhappy about the prospect but not overly concerned. "Fine, but why me? I just got the guy to agree to take the job. State gave him their stamp of approval, and you're technically the one who put his name on the top of the short list."

"Well, I decided it's better you than me," Leo said. "I deal with the nasty stuff; you field the dumb things."

"I can handle dumb," Josh nodded, making a note to call Brennan to hear his side.

"Of course, I'm not too worried about seeing the State Department breaking bread with terrorists in a pub when I've got a lovely soap opera brewing right here in Washington with the Commerce Secretary," Leo continued, focusing on CJ this time. "What the hell is going on with Cortez? We vetted this guy. We did it two and a half years ago when he took the job. This never came up?"

"He was still dating her," Josh shrugged as he responded. The glare he received from the two others in return caused him to study his shoes intensely for a few moments afterward.

"They want us to comment," CJ said. 

"We're not going to," Leo said instantly.

"Why not?" Josh replied. "Leo, we say we didn't know. We didn't and frankly we don't care. No harm."

"No harm?" Leo repeated.

"The guy is being sued for palimony," CJ responded. "He had a 10 year affair with this woman..."

"I don't care if he let her paint his toenails pink," Josh cut her off. "It's not against the law."

"He's being sued," she countered.

"That's different than indicted," Josh countered. "CJ, it's a sleazy story that, at it's core, is a personal matter. The guy broke up with his girlfriend and some shyster convinced her to file suit then sell the story to a tabloid. His wife stood with him at his press conference and said her bit. Until the guy is accused of impropriety on the job..."

"He's the Secretary of Commerce," CJ cut in.

"Thanks," Josh replied. "I forgot that seeing as I'm the one who vetted him."

"Lesson for the future," she added. "Ask the next guy if he's having an affair or engaged in anything that would embarrass the President and make for a good story on _Hard Copy."_

"Enough," Leo silenced them. "CJ, nothing from us. Yet."

"Leo," Josh said exasperatedly.

"The guy serves at the pleasure of the President, Josh," Leo reminded him. "The fact that he can't keep his hands off his secretary and it's threatening to detract from policy initiatives might be something which could earn his displeasure."

"It's not his secretary," Josh offered after a short pause.

"I'm sorry?"

"Paul Cortez's secretary isn't the one making the claims," Josh said. "In fact, his secretary and his deputy both were surprised by the news, showing further that he did what we're all permitted to do on our personal time and that's conduct it in private. This woman was a junior vice president at an advertising firm who got fired after they lost half a dozen accounts due to market attrition of their clientele."

"Your point?"

"She's a highly educated woman who can is capable of making up her own mind and taking care of herself," Josh answered. "She's scorned because a guy decided he'd rather be with his wife than carry on with her."

"So it's her fault?" CJ asked.

"I'm not talking about fault," Josh said. "I don't think any of us--that includes the press--is in any position to discuss fault. I'm saying this is a private matter."

"Well, it's now and it's in my press room so there goes your theory," CJ scoffed.

"CJ's right," Leo said then turned to the Press Secretary. "He hasn't made up his mind. Stall, but don't look like you're stalling. Focus on the reforestation legislation we're sending to the floor today--"

"Leo," Josh protested.

"We need something and that's ready to go," Leo insisted. "It's tied in with the tightened restrictions on toxins in water. Marry 'em at your podium; that's the news coming out of this building for now."

"Gotcha," CJ nodded.

"Anything else?" Leo asked her.

She shook her head then thanked Leo as she left. Josh remained in silence.

"Don't look at me like that," Leo said without looking up from his memos.

"I'm not going to say it's wrong," Josh said. "I don't need to; you already agree with me."

"Yeah," Leo sighed. "What do you need?"

"We've got trouble in California again," Josh sighed.

"Strike?" Leo ventured.

"Yeah."

"Won't happen," Leo said.

"Marco Acevedo thinks differently," Josh said, naming the leader of the dock workers union.

"How do you know?"

"Because he sent me a message that said he thinks differently," Josh said. 

"Wonderful," Leo sighed. 

"We can't publicly step in," Josh stated. "Not now. We smoothed out the waves last time, but this is a whole new thing."

"Damn," Leo scowled and shook his head. "You know, I have 20 good minutes a day. Know when they occur? Right after I fall asleep until just before I start dreaming."

***************** 

_Saturday, 2 p.m. _

"Hey Sam," Charlie said as the Deputy entered his office area. "The President's with his economic advisors, but will be free in a few minutes."

"Thanks Charlie," Sam said as he leaned against Debbie's desk.

"So how's it going?" the aide asked.

"My mother's cat died," Sam answered. "She called me earlier this afternoon."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Charlie said sincerely. "It's always hard to lose a family pet. Deana cried for a week when her hamster died."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, but you gotta understand something about Mr. Winkles."

"Mr. Winkles?"

"The cat," Sam said quickly. "It's, uh, my aunt named it when she gave it to me years ago."

Charlie looked up from his computer. "I thought you said it was your mother's cat."

"Well it is... was," Sam clarified. "My aunt, Lucy, gave to me when I was a teenager. I had Mono when I was 15 and she felt bad for me. So she gave me a cat."

"I'd have preferred ballons or something," Charlie added.

"Me, too," Sam said. "See, the thing is, I don't like cats. I'm generally not an animal person."

"I didn't know that about you."

"Now you do," Sam continued. "My mom took over Mr. Winkles' care."

"So your mother unknowingly volunteered to take care of the cat," Charlie surmised. "You duped her."

"It wasn't that," Sam argued. "I just persuaded her that Mr. Winkles would be better off in her care because she was a mother, and it was in her nature to care."

"I can see why women think you're a sexist and why you went into politics," Charlie smirked. "So how is Mrs. Seaborn handling the passing of the feline?" 

Sam adjusted the glasses along the bridge of his nose. 

"Funny thing," he explained. "It turns out that my mother never liked that cat. She only kept him because she thought that I liked having him there. In fact, she told me she had Mr. Winkles put to sleep."

Charlie looked at Sam. "Put to sleep? On purpose?"

"Well, not really," Sam enlightened the aide. 

"The cat's still alive?"

"No, he's very dead," Sam said. "My father told me the real story. My mother spared my feelings."

"What happened?"

"He got out of the house and was hit by a car," Sam said. "Ran under a UPS truck. So, I guess you could say he put himself to sleep."

"You think the cat committed suicide?" Charlie asked.

"He ran under a three ton truck, Charlie," Sam said. "That's suicide."

The door to the Oval Office opened and the staffers exited. Sam greeted each staffer on their way out as Charlie approached the door. He leaned into the Oval Office with Sam in tow.

"Mr. President? Sam is here to see you."

"Send him in," the President answered from his desk.

"Don't be too harsh with him," Charlie added. "His cat recently passed away in a self-inflicted manner."

Bartlet rose from his desk and made his way to the door. "Really? Sam I am so sorry."

"Thank you, Mr. President," Sam said, giving Charlie a quick glare. "It's nothing, really. I wanted to talk to you about the…"

Bartlet ushered the speechwriter in and cut him off in mid-sentence. "Ellie had a fish once, Marvin. She was seven…"

Sam scowled back at Charlie. "Thanks."

"No need to suffer alone," Charlie responded and shut the door.

**************** 

CJ Cregg's Office 

Thursday, 10 a.m. 

Josh entered CJ's layer. She was finishing her morning briefing and would return shortly. He sat on the edge of her desk and looked at the fish who guarded the room. There was a new structure in the bowl--a minature model of the White House. He shook his head and wondered who was responsible. 

"I thought you said this Paul Cortez thing would blow over," CJ said as she breezed into the room. 

"It will," Josh assured her. "It's a slow news week. That's a good thing." 

"Now, a slow news week is when they ask me things about the President's cufflinks or our stance on the Ground Hog's predictions," CJ disagreed. 

"Do we have a stance on the Ground Hog?" 

"What do you want?" 

"I just spoke with Ambassador Brennan--again," Josh said. 

"He wrote a memo," CJ reminded him sternly. 

"I know," Josh nodded. "We talked about that. I told him that he can disagree with State and he can do it in writing but..." 

"Did you let him know that CC'ing Danny Concannon on it is not professional?" she asked hotly. 

"I think I covered that, yeah," Josh said. "Look, he's.... It's under control." 

"Because you say so?" 

"Yeah," Josh nodded. 

"Donna told me you have an Entente Cordiale," CJ offered. 

"I'm sorry?" Josh asked stupefied. "She.... She what?" 

"A friendly working relationship," CJ translated. "An agreement of sorts." 

"She did?" he swallowed hard. 

"It doesn't surprise me," CJ continued. "You worked for the guy and got him through some tough spots. I just thought that since you dumped him and went to the Senate he might still be sore, but if he's still willing to listen to you, I couldn't be happier." 

"You meant Ambassador Brennan," Josh nodded, able to breath again. "Yeah, that's.... Good." 

"What's going on?" CJ asked. "You're in your own little world over there." 

"Only when necessary," Josh shook his head. "So, he's coming back to the States for a family wedding and I'm going to sit with him face to face and smooth things over with Kendall and the the guys at State. I just wanted you to know that you don't have to worry about it. He's getting public laryngitis and writer's cramp for a while--guaranteed." 

CJ looked at Josh and smirked. She could tell the grin made him uneasy, which made her happier still. Keeping Josh on his toes was almost as much fun as rocking Toby off his heels when he got entrenched with an idea. She wasn't sure what she had done to frazzle him so early in the day, but it pleased her. If she could figure out what it was, she would do it more often. 

"How do you solve a problem like Earl Brennan," CJ said in a lyrical fashion. 

"You don't have much a singing voice there," Josh cut her off as he headed toward the door. "Better stick to dancing in the chorus line." 

"I have the legs for it," she said confidently.  


***************** 

_Oval Office_

_Friday, 9 p.m._

"So we're agreed the man's a lunatic and an unmitigated pain in the ass?" Bartlet said summarizing his conversation with the Deputy Chief of Staff about the US Ambassador to Ireland .

"He might even have a standing directive to have that as his epitaph," Josh remarked. 

"Okay," Bartlet relented. "Well, so long as we're on the same page."

"He's coming home soon for his nephew's wedding," Josh said. "I spoke with him twice this week and he understands that this is not just an example of the boys over at State being... Well, never mind what he calls them."

"Probably the same thing I do," Bartlet shook his head. "I don't understand Brennan. I'd say I didn't understand his type, but the more I think of it, I don't know anyone else like him so I'm hard pressed to come up with a category for his type."

"Manic Leprechaun," Josh shrugged.

"Mmm," the President nodded. "I still can't figure the guy out. He's radically liberal except when he's stiflingly conservative."

"Try being the one who has to get him re-elected," Josh groaned. 

"Political boot camp?" Bartlet ventured as he prepared to leave the office. "Well, it's probably all behind you for a few hours."

"Thank you, sir," Josh grimaced. "Will that be all?"

"Going somewhere?" 

"Uh..., I guess that's up to you, Mr. President," Josh said mystified.

"Yes, it is," Bartlet continued. "Charlie!"

The President's aide appeared in the door way.

"Are we all set?" Bartlet asked.

"Yes, sir," Charlie responded. "We're ready when you are."

"Fine," the President responded. "I'm going to the residence briefly and then we'll get started. Show Leo's Deputy here where he's supposed to be. I'm afraid he's going to claim ignorance, and I'd just as soon head that ploy off at the pass."

"Yes, sir," Charlie grinned as the President breezed out toward the colonnade on his way to his bedroom to change into a more comfortable attire.

"What's going on, Charlie?" Josh asked, following the aide out of the Oval.

"Movie night," Charlie said with a knowing smirk.

"No," Josh groaned and hung his head. "He's serious about this?"

"He had me send you all those invitation," Charlie reminded him. "Everyone else is heading to the screening room now. You'd better hurry or you're going to have to sit down front with the President, and trust me, Josh. This is one of those times when you do not want to be sitting next to him."

"That bad?"

"Worse," Charlie said as he turned off his computer.

******************

_White House screening room_

_ 9:30 p.m._

The low hum of staff members grumbling and wondering amongst themselves why they were gathered filled the room. They were scattered throughout the room. Josh caught a lucky break when Donna saved a seat for him behind and to the left of the President's seat.

"Where's Sam?" Josh asked as he sat beside her and cranked his neck around in search of the speechwriter.

"Over there," Donna said and pointed. Sam caught the motion and winced as she waved to him. "Is he avoiding you for some reason? He seems kind of edgy when I see him."

"No clue," Josh said as the President entered and strode to the front of the room. The chatter ceased swiftly as he held up his hands to summon quiet.

"I'm glad you all could be here," Bartlet began.  
  
"We were ordered to be here, sir," Toby reminded him.   
  
"Did that order include permission to interrupt me?" Bartlet asked. 

Toby grimaced and sunk into his seat. 

"Thank you," the President continued. "Now, as I was saying, I am pleased to have you all here. As some of you may know, a couple weeks ago Abbey presented me with a gift. It was a DVD of all of our home movies. She had them transferred from all the old film we had. I'd seen them all many times, but I never tire of them. Now they're on a disc, digitally preserved for ever. It was probably the greatest gift, other than my daughters, that she ever gave me. There really is nothing like fond memories to share with those you care about, and that got me to thinking. We spent the last year fighting a battle side-by-side, and if we weren't already as close as any staff that ever inhabited this building then we never would be. I appreciate all of you and everything you do for me, for this administration and for this nation; it occurs to me that I don't say that often enough. You all mean a great deal to me, and I know the sacrifices you make in your own lives and those your families make in order for you to be here doing this work. So, with that in mind, I wanted to bring you all together and share the way families do."  
  
"Sir," Sam cautiously interjected. "May I ask how…"  
  
"I'm in charge of all remarks tonight, Sam," Bartlet said quickly. "Your job is to sit there and enjoy this."  
  
"Yes, sir," Sam answered.  
  
"Now, in the invitation you received," Bartlet said.

"It was more of an order," Toby grumbled.

"I could turn this into a sing-along and have you lead us, Toby," Bartlet quipped then returned to his other guests. "I believe you all received an invitation for this evening that informed you we would 'be watching a film _about you_.' I dare say some of you read that message and took the descriptor of 'about you' as the title of the show. I suspect some of you even did some research to find out what kind of arduous and unending punishment you could expect."  
  
"You're looking at me, sir," Josh remarked.

"Am I?" the President responded with a devious glint in his eyes. "What would give you that idea, Mr. Please Tell Me I'm Not Worthy?"

Josh slouched in his seat and cast his eyes side to side—grateful to see he was not the only marginally guilty party in the room. Ed, Larry and Carol had practically crawled under their seats; Josh hoped the President could see this.  
  
"Well, you no doubt failed to locate this title," Bartlet announced. "This is a film. It's my film. Actually, it's your film. We're all familiar with our most polished and some of our not-so-glittering moments in front of the camera."  
  
CJ strategically coughed though it sounded suspiciously like she was saying Josh's name. When she was pegged in the head instantaneously by a piece of popcorn, she had a short list of suspects.

"Again, sir," Josh said turning his attention away from the Press Secretary. "You're looking here."

"Well, that one wasn't intentional," Bartlet remarked. "But I do love your greatest hits."

"That makes one of us," Leo groaned.  
  
"Okay, Leo didn't get his nap today, so we'd better pick things up before someone gets fired," Bartlet continued. "It seems that many of us were stars long before we even graduated from high school. Since I am the executive producer of this project, I assigned Debbie Fiderer to pull it all together. She obtained all the necessary footage and saw the project through to its end. I have not seen it yet—this is the premier. So, sit back and enjoy."  
  
The lights dimmed and a montage of images of the staff from interviews during the campaigns and appearances on news magazines appeared. The final frame was one from the President's most recent Inaugural Address. As his words faded, so did the picture; the blackness slowly dissolved to display shaky footage showing grass and someone's feet. It appeared that the camera operator--someone with an old camcorder from the quality of the picture--was obviously walking without realizing the camera was on. Then rose a giggling sound and two young girl's voices whispering.  
  
"Zoey, aren't you supposed to use this camera for your science project," the unmistakable voice of a teenage Ellie Bartlet asked.  
  
"Don't worry," Zoey replied. "I'm doing this for Mom."  
  
They rounded a corner, which those viewing now recognized as the backside of the Bartlet's farmhouse in New Hampshire on a summer day. As girls approached their quarry, a wailing sound filled the air. Words, or sounds that were probably words, were emanating from a blurry image cloaked in smoke. The camera focused more sharply to reveal the President—then Governor of New Hampshire—standing at a barbeque grill burning whatever he was attempting to cook and singing a piece of opera—badly.   
  
"Don't think I don't know that you're there," Bartlet said without looking at the camera as he paused in the aria. "I heard you planning this in your room. You'd be wise to recall that sound travels; and, Zoey, your bedroom is directly above the spot where I stand right now."  
  
The girls scoffed a minor complaint at their surprise being thwarted before Bartlet returned to his performance unhindered by the camera that was catching every moment.   
  
The staff did not spare their chuckles though they held off any outrageous cackles. The scene faded to black and proceeded on to the next victim. In no specific order, so many of the staff was put on display with up to 10 minutes each of footage. 

Ginger showed up as a cheerleader during a basketball game in high school--give a little squad pep talk before taking the floor and rising to the top of the pyramid. Sam proudly practiced the clarinet for his grandmother while interrupting his performance to tell her about how his best friend had dropped his lunch in the middle of the cafeteria the previous week in front of everyone. Ed was bursting with energy in his Junior Varsity football uniform, then dropping the ball as he tripped over his shoelace and later explaining to his father (the one with the camera evidently) that he did know how to tie his shoes on most days but not always on game days. 

Larry received several cat calls as he appeared modeling a tux for a college fashion show to benefit a cause he could no longer recall. He swore amid the chides that he was not wearing make up, but could not explain to his co-workers why his cheeks were so rosy and his lips that shade of pink. Donna, too, was in the film—dressed in her band uniform as she grinned spectacularly at the camera and showed off her high school mascot that drawn on her cheek by her sister using an eye pencil; she then spent several moments bursting with school spirit about the homecoming game.  
  
"That the game where you did the domino thing?" Josh asked quietly from beside her.  
  
"Yes," she hissed and jabbed him viciously with an elbow for recalling the pile up she accidentally confessed to him before the primaries.

Charlie appeared in a duet of sorts, dancing with his sister Deana in a talent show around Christmas at age 12. CJ suffered through teases from her brothers as she stood for pictures before her first prom. Her date, a confident boy nearly a foot shorter than her, stuck her with the pin as he attached her corsage.   
  
The frame faded to black on CJ's pinning only to be followed by the sound of a shrieking of a child. As the blackness dissolved into a picture, a blond woman could be seen wrestling a toddler who failed his arms and legs in a seizured frenzy.  
  
"Darling, you have to put your tie on for Mommy," Anna Lyman pleaded as the child squirmed from her grasp. "Joshua, you'll be so handsome."  
  
"I don't wanna be handsome," he yelled back and attempted to run from her. "I want my lellaplant!"  
  
The cameraman then spoke.  
  
"He doesn't need the tie, Anna," the man spoke.  
  
"And you don't need to film this, Merrill," she said tersely.   
  
"It's called a 'slice of life' story," the mysterious Merrill announced. "It's very big in the film schools."  
  
"So you're in film school now?" asked a tall gentleman who entered the frame. He sported an amused grin with dimples. "I thought you were a banker."  
  
"Noah, Merrill is not your concern," Anna said. "Deal with your family. I'll deal with mine."  
  
"Technically, Joshua is yours, too," Noah Lyman said, easily lifting the runaway toddler from behind the sofa and placing him back on a cushion then handing him a stuffed animal. "He's not just mine when he acts like this."  
  
"When he acts like you, he's all yours," Anna Lyman huffed. "Get him dressed. Oh good, you found Fwancis."  
  
"Fwancis!" young Josh yelped, hugging what appeared to be a stuffed elephant. "Thank you for finding my lellaplant, Daddy."  
  
"The word is elephant," said a young school aged girl in a bored tone that spoke of a constant state of annoyance with her little brother. "How many times do I have to tell you? Say it right. _El-e-phant_."

"Tha's what I said," the boy argued. "Lellaplant."  
  
"Brat, four letters; Josh, four letters," the girl said and nodded to her father. "Coincidence?"  
  
"Joanie, you're not helping," Noah sighed at his daughter.  
  
"Okay," she nodded and smirked. "Maybe if you didn't let him sneak downstairs to watch those stupid movies with you late at night he wouldn't be so cranky in the morning and pitch tantrums about wearing clothes."  
  
"Trust me, sweetheart, this is not a tantrum," Noah said. "This is..."  
  
"Josh being Josh," the girl surmised.  
  
"And they're not stupid movies," Noah continued as he wrangled a tie around the little boy's neck, who seemed more interested in biting on the elephant's trunk than being cooperative. "The Marx Brother's are brilliant and unless I handcuff him to his bed, Joshua pretty much wanders around as he pleases. Would you prefer he end up in your room making you read to Fwancis..."

"Daddy, say Francis or he'll never learn," the girl insisted.

"Are you certain?" Noah asked with a grin. "He's the world's only lellaplant; Fwancis might be the correct..."

"Daddy!" she huffed while fighting off a smirk before stomping out of the screen. "I don't care what its name is. I still think we should sell them both to gypsies."

In the lull, Noah knotted his son's tie while shaking his head--possibly contemplating the gypsy transaction.  
  
"Anna says if he's sarcastic when he grows up, she's blaming you," Merrill offered as Noah hoisted the boy over his shoulder and prepared to leave.  
  
"Merrill, the number of things your cousin is going to blame me for is so large that I stopped counting," Noah replied then shouted to the area off camera. "Okay, everyone in this house who holds the name Lyman better be in the car in two minutes or Joshua and I are going to Atlantic City!"  
  
"No Nana and Poppa?" the little boy asked while hanging upside down over his father's shoulder--his face turning red with the inversion--still clutching his stuff animal.  
  
"That's what I meant," Noah answered righting the boy. "We're going to their anniversary party. About 20 minutes after we get there, I want you to tell Mom you don't feel well and want to go home."

"How long's that?"

"Don't worry," Noah promised the boy. "I'll tell you when."  
  
"Okay," young Josh answered eagerly with a giggle. "I drive?"  
  
"No," Noah responded tiredly.  
  
"Poppa lets me," the child informed him. "I steer."  
  
"I know," Noah said. "That's why we don't leave you alone with Poppa any more."  
  
"I drive fast," Josh said proudly.  
  
"You're not helping your case, kid," Noah sighed as the frame faded slowly to darkness. "Joanie! Anna! We're leaving!"  
  
Josh heard the snickers and the teasing around him, but what he heard mostly was the echo of his sister's voice. He'd forgotten it. The precise sound of it had been lost to him for decades. He had no independent recollection of the moments just viewed; he had never seen this film before nor known of its existence. He sat passively staring at the scene.

Leo was next victim on the block, giving an interview on television in Boston at the start of his career—back when his hair was still had red in it. Toby was given last honors. His debut showed him glowering at the camera during a district high school debating tournament where his team had just been awarded the runner up medal and was being interviewed by the local news. His voice, less gravelly than it was now, held the same conviction as could be heard on any Monday morning. Jokes about his hair started instantly in the room. There was a thick mass of dark hair on his head but none on his chin. The only physical resemblance appeared to be the cigar that could be seen sticking out of his breast pocket.

The room stayed dark for several seconds. Though painful for moments individually, the President surmised that the project had gone over well. After several moments, he stood and signaled the lights to be turned up. He thanked the staff, promised them he would never look at any of them the same again, then dismissed them to wallow in their mortification and go back to work.

****************

_CJ Cregg's Office_

_10:45 p.m. _

"Who's got the fried rice?" CJ asked as she picked up one of the mountain of take out cartons that had amassed on her desk. The staff assembled in the Press Secretary's office after the movie. 

"Larry finished it ten minutes ago," Sam said as he popped a fried donut in his mouth. 

CJ glared at him. "Thank you, Itzak Pearlman." 

"Itzak played the violin," Sam informed her. "I played clarinet." 

"And not very well," Josh spoke from his lounging position on CJ's couch. 

"How would you know?"

"My mother's a music teacher," Josh reminded him. "What song were you butchering?" 

"It was a work in progress," Sam replied. "My grandmother loved it." 

CJ chuckled. "Did she have her hearing aid in when you played?" 

Sam protested. "She said she didn't need it." 

"Grandmothers will say anything," Toby said. "They lie like mothers because they can."

As the dissection of Sam's musical talents continued, Josh shrugged as he swiped an egg roll from Donna, who was sitting in front of the couch. 

"That's mine," Donna protested. "I was planning on eating that." 

"Not anymore Miss Fighting…," Josh shook his head. "What the hell was your mascot?" 

"That's none of your concern, Tantrum Boy," she replied as she took a swig of water. 

"I think it was a buffalo," Sam piped in then quickly added. "I mean, not that I was that interested or anything." 

"Let's settle it," Josh offered. "A play-off. Flute versus clarinet. Winner takes all—just be careful, Sam; she's wiped out entire battalions of Buffalo musicians." 

CJ scoffed. "This from a man who pitched a fit when he couldn't find his _lellaplant_. Which, I gotta tell ya, Josh, if the Republicans ever got a hold of that footage…" 

"It was a toy and I was a child," he defended through clenched teeth. "I don't even remember owning it." 

"Looked like more than a toy," Toby said. "_Fwancis_ looked like your best _fwiend_." 

"And some things never change," CJ continued. "Let's see: Throws fits, clothing in a shambles, isn't handsome. This whole missing _lellaplant_ ploy won't work. Do you still sleep with your _wittle_ buddy?" 

"I don't," he said confidently. 

CJ cocked an eyebrow: "And why should I believe that?"

"Because I didn't take anything with me," Josh said simply. 

Silence felled the room. The staff looked around at each other, not sure what to say; Josh stared uncomfortably at his plate for a moment, knowing he had said too much. He hadn't meant it to come out like that; he was just giving a simple answer. Some in the room knew only the bare minimum of his past; others knew more. None were inclined to discuss the matter further. The only sounds that could be heard were the rustling of the chopsticks against the paper boxes and the shuffling of feet. 

"And let me just say," Charlie said suddenly standing in the doorway, "that that was real classy of you, CJ, to let your boyfriend cop a feel in front of your father. It shows you were a real woman on the edge even then." 

"Okay, Bo Jangles," CJ responded, looking at him and knowing that the tension was broken. "Paul was trying to pin on my corsage." 

"Sure took him long enough," Sam smirked. "To be that brazen right there took guts." 

"Speaking of brazen," CJ said, shifting the focus away from her. "Toby! A cigar? You were like 16 and you've got a cigar sticking out of your shirt pocket." 

"I was mature for my age," Toby answered. "Something that no one else in the room knows anything about." 

"And his Dad was a gangster," Sam added. "Not likely anyone was going to reprimand him." 

"He had a Jewish mother," Josh shook his head and grinned. "They aren't afraid of anything. You hid your cigars from her I'll bet." 

"Cultural wisdom from the elephant boy," Toby countered. "You're a disgrace to the Democratic Party." 

"He was a disgrace before we knew about the elephant," Ed shrugged and earned himself a glare from the Deputy Chief. "Hey, I thought this was bring the funny hour?" 

"Charlie did you need something?" CJ asked. 

"Yeah," he said. "I needed to speak with Josh." 

"Sure," Josh replied and rose from the couch. Donna promptly abandoned her spot on the floor and stole his place. "I'm coming back."

"And when you come back, you can ask like a nice little boy to have your seat on the big people couch," Donna smirked as she starting picking at the carton of food he left behind.

"You are so fired," he shook his head then followed Charlie into the hall. 

The group continued to fire off at-times insulting insights to the film, filling the room with laughter. They all agreed that the President did mean well when obtaining the film though as a group they were likely scarred irreparably. 

"I'll tell you one thing," Sam said. "You know who didn't change? Leo. I mean, the hair isn't red anymore, but everything else…" 

"Even then, he could command a room," Donna agreed. "I wonder what he was like to know when he was younger." 

"Ask Josh," Toby offered. "He knew Leo." 

"His father knew Leo," Donna corrected him. "Josh doesn't really remember seeing or speaking to Leo until college." 

"Mallory remembers his sister a little," Sam offered. "She mentioned once something about visiting some place by the shore and Josh's sister was baby sitting her. She doesn't remember Josh being there, but she remembers that time because she remembers being sad later when her mother told her about…. you know. She said her family traveled to Connecticut for the funeral. They went to someone's house afterward, and they had all the mirrors covered in black cloth." 

"They were sitting Shiva," Toby explained. "Josh had grandparents in the area; it's customary to sit Shiva in the home and since... Well..." 

"Right," Sam nodded. 

"I never knew about fire until after the Rosslyn," Ed said. "I read about it in one of the magazine articles."

"It isn't exactly a comfortable conversation topic," Larry added. "He doesn't even have a picture of her, does he? I mean, in his office. He's got some of his family--his parents and his grandfather. I don't think that girl from the film isn't in any of those. Well, that's depressing. Weren't we talking about Leo?" 

"Yeah, we were wondering what he was like," Ed offered. 

"He'd like you all to go back to work," Leo announced as he appeared in the doorway. "This building doesn't run itself, and we've got a commerce bill we're prepping so if you all have this extra time to sit here and gab, maybe you could be productive, too." 

"You do say the sweetest things," CJ remarked. 

***************** 

"What's going on?" Josh asked as he found himself in his office having followed Charlie there. 

"I hope you don't mind my asking, but I wanted to see how you were," Charlie stated.

"What do you mean?" Josh asked.

"I remember the first time I saw my mom and heard her voice on a tape after she died," Charlie said. "It hit pretty hard. It was like two months after she died and Deanna was messing around looking at a tape from one of her birthdays. I didn't know what she was watching. I walked in the room and suddenly there was my mom. I had to leave the room. Your mom said that you'd never seen this film, so I was just seeing if... you know...."

"Thanks," Josh said. "But I'm fine. I don't really have any strong memories of my sister; I had a laugh at my expense--not as hearty a laugh as everyone else, granted, but this meant nothing to me. Really."

"You don't even call her by her name," Charlie observed. "It's just that I've noticed the rare times I've ever heard you acknowledge her, even to people who know about her, that you just say 'my sister.' I just noticed, is all."

"Yeah," Josh nodded. "I didn't know her. I was too young. I mean, we were a few years apart and.... If I'd just heard that voice from the movie on a tape without anyone else's--like without my parents--I'd have never known it was her. She's not even a memory really--more like a vague dream; it was so long ago."

"If you say so," Charlie shrugged, knowing Josh was lying. He then handed him a disc case. "Debbie wanted me to give you this. It's a disc of the whole video your mother sent her. It's only about 20 minutes long. Your mother sent two or three video bits and told Debbie to pick one. Debbie sent the video back but had a copy made to give to you."

"I didn't know my mother had home movies from then," Josh shook his head. "That's the real mystery. I was just saying to CJ that there's nothing from when I was young."

"These weren't at your house," Charlie explained. "That cousin, Merle?"

"Merrill," Josh said. "My mother's screwball cousin from Delaware ."

"Right, well, apparently his family had this stuff," Charlie explained. "They gave it to your mother recently."

"Oh," Josh nodded. Merrill's sister lived in Baltimore and had probably inherited all Merrill's stuff when he died the previous year. He figured Angela was probably divvying up the parts of estate she could not sell. "Thanks for this. I shudder to think what Debbie left out."

"She did you a favor," Charlie smirked. "I haven't seen it, but she said she'll never look at you the same way again."

"Maybe I will become a Republican," Josh shook his head.

"That might help us," Leo announced as he walked in. "Charlie, the President was looking for his glasses again. Could you..."

Charlie nodded and exited the room on his quest. 

"You okay?" Leo asked.

"I was cuddling an elephant and calling it a sissy name," Josh summarized as he dropped into his chair. "Probably not going to live that one down for a while."

"I think CJ called me 'Red' as I left her office," Leo shook his head. "You know, I tell him some things are a bad idea and look what it gets me."

"If it's any consolation, I'd be willing to swear Toby's cigar was Cuban," Josh said.

"No, that doesn't help me much," Leo said.

"Me, either," Josh said. "Let's just become Republicans and wreck their Party from the inside out."

"Hey, we've got plenty of experience," Leo nodded as he turned to leave the room. "Just don't call the Chairman _Fwancis_ and get us fired our first day."

"And so it begins," Josh sighed.

****************

_Operations Bullpen _

_February 14th _

_1:00 p.m. _

Ginger and Donna entered the bullpen after a quick lunch in the Mess. Ginger was continuing her conversation about her latest boyfriend when they stopped at Donna's desk.

"So I'm thinking Jake and I are becoming a thing," Ginger grinned, then noticed a decoration at Donna's workstation. "Hey, you got flowers?"

"I do?" Donna asked. She grinned at the beautiful array of lilies, pink carnations and white roses. "I do."

"Who are they from?" Ginger asked, peering at the card.

"Josh," she said casually.

Ginger cocked her head. "Josh who?"

"I mean..." Donna corrected, realizing her mistake. A rosy blush crept around her cheeks. "Uh..."

"Oh, did you finally convince him that your anniversary is in February?" Ginger asked.

"I'm sorry?"

"For when you started working for him," Ginger clarified. "You say February and he gets all belligerent and claims its April every year. Did you finally win out?"

Donna heaved an internal sigh of relief, thankful that Ginger didn't catch on. "Yeah, that makes sense. I mean, yes. I must have. That's precisely what it is."

"They're nice," Ginger remarked, walking towards Communications.

Donna waited until Ginger had disappeared before breaking out into a blinding grin. She felt giddy about her flowers because they could only be from one person—Josh. And it wasn't for their anniversary. She glanced at her calendar and thought about the sweet moment that Josh was providing her at work. She ripped open the card:

_Congrats on the promotion Dom! _

_ --From Carol, Alice and Johanna._

She recognized the senders' names. They were secretaries from the Protocol Office and the flowers were not for her. They were for Dominick Mossey; he had recently been promoted and the flowers were congratulatory in nature. She hadn't received flowers from Josh after all.

Donna solemnly carried the flowers down to the next department. She offered her congratulations to Dominick and returned to her desk. She sighed dejectedly as she sat down at her desk and began to type up a memo. Donna completed the memo and clicked the button, spitting the document out. She knocked on his door to acknowledge her presence and placed it on his desk.

"Thanks," he replied not looking up from his report. Instead he pointed to a large binder on the corner. "Oh, hey, take that to Sam would ya?"

"Anything else?" she asked. "Anything you want to say to me?"

"Not really," Josh answered as he continued reading.

Donna wordlessly picked up the binder and exited the office. She silently admonished herself for thinking that Josh would remember Valentine's Day. It wasn't a recognized government holiday and despite all the blazon reminders around the office, Josh seemed oblivious to it. Donna entered the Communication Bullpen as Sam was exiting his office with a gentleman she vaguely remembered.

"Oh, hey Donna," Sam said nervously as she stood next to him. "What…what can I do for you?"

"Josh asked me to drop this off to you," Donna handed him the binder. "And that's it," she sighed, "if you have any questions you should ask him."

Sam winced as he chose his words carefully. "Donna, are you okay? What's the matter?"

"Oh nothing," she replied quietly. "If you count receiving flowers from someone you wanted them to be from only to find out that they weren't even for you in the first place. Talk about a cruel joke. And on Valentine's Day even!"

"Oh, um…uh…" Sam stuttered. "I'm…sorry about that…Donna. So that means you don't have a date?"

"No."

Sam turned to the man next to him. "Well, Pete doesn't either. This is Pete Tanner from the State Department. Pete, may I introduce to you to Donnatella Moss, assistant to Josh Lyman."

"Pleased to meet you," Pete replied, shaking her hand. "I usually don't do this – have Sam set me up."

"Oh, Donna's a good sport," Sam answered for her. "I'm sure you two would hit it off perfectly. Pete's from Wisconsin , too."

"That's nice," Donna replied as her eyes glanced back and forth from the two men. Sam had a mischievous glint in his eyes and Pete was smiling. "So, I'll see you around. Nice meeting you Pete."

"Wait," Sam stopped her. "You said you didn't have any dinner plans. You don't have any other plans for tonight, do you?"

"Uh, well, I don't think so," Donna replied. Josh had not made it known to her that she was invited over to his place that night. He seemed wrapped up in the report. "Not unless Josh…"

"Perfect," Sam smiled. "Then I think you and Pete should go to dinner tonight. I'll make a call to get you in. I don't think that two very eligible, single people should celebrate this night alone. You up for it Donna?"

"Sure," Donna replied quickly. "What about you?"

"I have a date with an education speech," Sam replied. "Now you two crazy kids have a good time tonight. I'll make the reservations for 8:30 ."

Sam spun around on his heels and entered his office. He shut the door leaving Pete and Donna alone.

"So I'll see you later," Pete waved as he walked toward the exit. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Same here," Donna said, pasting a smile on her face for his benefit. "This should be…interesting."

**************** 

  
_Communications Bullpen _

_February 14th _

_8:15p.m. _

"Was Ginger going to get us dinner or was she making fun of you?" Josh asked as he launched a foam football at Sam.

"She had a date," Sam replied as he caught the football and swiftly tossed it back.

Josh caught it against his chest. "What's that got to do with our dinner?"

"It means she's bringing us something from the restaurant," Sam clarified as Donna entered.

"There you are," she replied as she stepped in between the two.

"Yes. Here I am. And there is Sam," Josh smirked. "But where is Ginger with our dinner that is the question. Hey, Donna, you can get it for us. Can...Where are you going?"

Donna, clad in a low neck powder blue sweater and short black skirt, placed her hands behind her back. 

"Out," she said simply.

"Out?"

"Yes," she replied. 

"Donna has a hot date," Sam said helpfully--pleased that she was seeing the company of someone other than him on Valentine's Day.

"A date?" Josh repeated in a stunned fashion.

"Can I talk to you for a second in your office?" Donna asked quickly.

"Hey," Sam interrupted. "I'm glad you're going to dinner with Tanner. I think you and Pete have some chemistry. You look good together."

"Uh, thanks Sam," she replied, casting a wary glance at Josh.

"You've got a date?" Josh asked again as he took in her appearance. 

"It's just dinner," Donna explained.

"With Pete?" Josh asked. "Pete who?"

"Tanner," Sam said eagerly. "From State. You know Pete."

"Pete Tanner from State?" Josh said again. "I see."

Sam stepped closer. "Yeah. I met with him earlier today. Donna happened by. And, wouldn't you know it, we started talking and I found out that they were both free tonight so dinner plans were made; I think it was a fate thing. Some good karma there.." 

"And she said yes?" Josh asked, not looking at Donna.

"Without hesitation," Sam nodded.

"Thank you, Sam," Donna said tersely.

"That's great; enjoy yourself," Josh answered as he returned the ball to Sam on his way out of the bullpen. "Sammy, think quick. I gotta go check on something."

Josh walked down the hall towards his office. He swiftly entered his office without a word and started rooting around his desk. Donna hurried to catch up with him. She arrived and stood in the doorway, leaning on the casing.

"Are you mad?" she asked coyly, trying not to sound obvious.

"About what?"

"I have a date," she said. "On Valentine's Day. With a very good looking and clever man."

"So you said," Josh said sharply. "Actually, so Sam said. The thing about the date, that is. He didn't really comment on Pete."

"He's witty...," she began.

"Sam?"

"No, Pete, and cute," Donna continued, childishly prodding him to say what she wanted him to say--that he was jealous and didn't want her to go. Some of what she was implying was true. She did like Peter but it was more in a hi-let's-have-lunch kind of way. Still, she saw no need to tell Josh that. Donna saw this as an opportunity to test out her arrangement with Josh.

"He's thoughtful," she continued. "And he's going places. I've heard several people say that he has a long and bright future at State. I think with a little polishing, he'll be...."

"Yeah, he's just Dr. Freeride all over again," Josh said in a nasty tone that caught Donna off guard. She was momentarily silenced. Her jaw hung open slightly. "Don't let me stop you. Better dash off. Pete's waiting."

Donna shook her head and tried to find something--anything--to say to let him know that... 

"Josh's that's not what....," she began then stopped.

Then what? What had she been trying to do? There was no need to put on a show to make Josh jealous. She didn't want him to be jealous; jealousy was an ugly emotion. Besides, she'd experienced his jealousy before--not realizing that's what it was until now--all those times he berated her choice of dates in the past. From the cold and disinterested look he gave her, Donna was afraid that her game had been damaging. She knew that they had agreed their after-hours liaisons were not going to be serious, but that was long before this thing, this attraction between them became serious. She thought he knew what she felt--even if he never let on--Donna had been sure that he was confident and secure about her feelings for him. She could see now that was not the case. What ever he might have thought, he surely was thinking differently now. Or worse, had had his insecure feelings confirmed. 

"See you Monday," he said, dismissing her as he suddenly shifted his tone to mild and bored. He sat in his chair and started reading a folder on his desk.

"Will you need me later?" she asked.

"No," Josh replied without looking up. "I don't need you."

"If you need...."

"I said I don't need you," he replied, deeply engrossed in the report before his eyes. "If I want you, I'll have someone call you." 

Donna nodded and walked stiffly out of the office, valiantly fighting the urge to cry. She won the battle. She said good night to five people as she left and none were aware she was deep in the throes of heartache.

Donna had just disappeared through the doors to the lobby when Josh stood up and violently flung his report into the trash and cursed quietly under his breath.

"Hey," Sam said, as he arrived a moment later. "Anything wrong?"

"No," Josh lied calmly. "So what's up?"

"Ginger's back," he said. "Good news, bad news. Which do you want first?"

"Bad."

"I knew you'd say that," Sam replied then sported a solemn expression. "She didn't get the Chinese food."

"Man."

"I know," Sam nodded vigorously. "Good news though. Debbie's getting sushi."

"I didn't want sushi," Josh whined.

"Neither do I," Sam said. "That's why I ordered Chinese."

"But you said..."

"Debbie's going to get sushi, but she's also picking us up Chinese," Sam explained.

"Wouldn't this conversation have been shorter if you'd just told me that at the start or just called me when dinner was here?" Josh wondered.

"I was bored," Sam shrugged then tossed Josh back the football. "We've still got a game going."

*****************

_Josh's Apartment _

_Georgetown _

_11 p.m. _

Josh lay on the couch reading the latest issue of _Newsweek. _He was about to turn on the television when his evening was interrupted by a knock on the door. Josh ceased reading to see if the knocking sound came from his neighbor across the hall who was receiving a visitor. When the knock repeated itself, he flipped the magazine on the coffee table and made his way to the door. He carefully opened it as no one buzzed his apartment. He was surprised at his uninvited visitor.

"Hi," Donna said.

"What?" Josh sighed.

"You weren't at the office when I got back," she said. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," Josh said suspiciously. "That's why I came home. Thanks for checking in. See you Monday."

Josh moved to close the door but was stopped abruptly. Donna pushed the door back and edged her way in, sliding under his arm to get into the apartment.

"Josh, I stopped by," she said apologetically.

"I can see that," he replied. "You didn't need to. As I just said, there was no need. I'm sort of busy here, so.... Why don't you go back and see Pete? If you drive fast and avoid 31st Street, you'll probably catch him at a street light before he leaves Georgetown."  
  
"Oh, for the love of god, Joshua," Donna said exasperatedly. "It was just dinner, okay? I had dinner with him. That's all."

Josh looked at the empty hall where she had previously stood before closing the door. 

"Don't be so negative," he offered as he turned to speak to her. "Maybe your next date will go better. You shouldn't give up on the guy after just one date. Pete is probably the one for you. He's non-threatening; without a solid, definable opinion and generally afraid of confrontation unless he has a memo completely outlining every stance he is permitted to assume."

"Don't say that and don't call him Dr. Freeride," Donna said angrily. "You were out of line to..."

"I'm sorry," he relented. "That was uncalled for. Pete is not a complete louse. I apologize for saying as much."

"No, he's not," Donna agreed. "But that's not what I meant."

"You don't owe me an explanation," Josh said as he walked away from her and back toward the living room. "If you like dull, boorish and lifeless--which apparently you do since you jumped at the chance to date the guy--then he's your match. Hey, he's got a degree from Utah State--so you can add mediocre intelligence to the bill. You should hang on to this one."

"There won't be a next date," she said. 

"Don't give up," Josh said encouragingly. "I'm sure you'll do better with your next date with whatever State guy Sam marches into the office and who looks lonely."

"Stop it!" Donna said as she stomped her foot. "Would you shut up for one damn minute?"

"I'm just trying to be helpful," Josh answered as he took a seat on the couch.

"You're really not."

"I am trying," he said earnestly.

"Helpful? You call this helpful?"

"Yes, that's why I just said I was being helpful," he replied. "Donna, you're right. I was harsh earlier and I didn't need to be. What I'm saying is that you shouldn't let tonight taint your view of dating. There's an outside chance, maybe 48-52, that not all nights will be as... What was wrong with tonight? Pete dull? Not all nights and other men will be as dull as this and Pete. I'm sure Sam knows a lot of people and perhaps a few of them aren't complete alpha emitters."

"Pete was charming, if you must know," she said defensively as she sat on the couch, aware that she had not been invited and was still wearing her hat and mittens. "But that's not the point either. The point is that I didn't want to go on the date."

"You jumped at the chance," Josh offered. "Like a desperate woman in...."

"It wasn't desperate, but I was forced to say yes," she contended.

"You lost the power of speech when communicating the word 'no'?"

"It wasn't that simple," Donna explained. "Sam was there and he was pushing me."

"I know Sam," Josh argued. "He's good, but he's not that persuasive."

"I had a horrible time," she admitted with a sigh.

"Did he make you pay for dinner?" Josh asked. "I know Pete a little and to me he's always looked like the cheap kind. Plus, the guy wears a bow tie several times a week. I always thought that hinted that he had deep and private feelings about Tucker Carlson. Is that what it was?"

"What?" Donna asked, staring at him and wondering what year it was. This conversation could easily have--and in fact had--occurred numerous times in the first five years she knew and worked for Josh.

"The reason you didn't enjoy your date," he explained. "Was it because Pete's a Republican? I'm not fond of them professionally, but personally I know several who are fairly human. But if it's party loyalty stopping you, I'm sure Sam knows some Democrats who..."

"No, that is not the reason," she said, confessing. "I couldn't get the look on your face--the one when I told you I had a date--out of my mind."

"What look?" Josh asked, badly covering his guilt. "There was no look. I told you to have a good time, and if I didn't, I meant to."

"You said it but didn't mean it," Donna said. "And there was a look and there was a tone in your voice."

"Okay, there was no look, and there was no tone," he insisted. "You're an adult. What you do with your own time is your choice. You owe me--and by me I mean the Administration--certain hours during the week, but after hours are... yours to spend as you choose."

"Fine," she said dejectedly. She had hurt him through a juvenile need to feel wanted and now he was making her pay to satisfy a similar need. She stood and prepared to leave. "You're right. I thought I'd just let you know."

She was barely out of the living room when he called to her.

"Donna?"

"Yes?"

"You didn't have to come all the way over here," he said.

"It was on my way," she replied.

Josh left his seat and joined her near the door with a questioning and disbelieving gaze. He shook his head and grinned slightly.

"Home," she said, pointing toward the door. "It was on my way home."

"You said you went back to the office," Josh pointed out. "Your way home from the office doesn't take you by my place."

"Pete dropped me off at the White House because that's where my car was," Donna explained. "And I had to grab my bag and noticed you weren't there, so I swung by on my way home and... Wait. No, you don't get to do this."

"Do what?"

"Pretend you caught me... you know... here because I wanted to....," Donna said flustered. "I just spend five minutes telling you that I came here specifically to apologize."

"You did?"

"Yes," she said emphatically. "Weren't you listening?"

"Not really, no," he admitted.

"You're the poster child for passive aggressive juveniles," Donna sighed. 

"I am photogenic," he nodded confidently, ignoring the sharp part of the jab. 

"So, what are you doing?" Donna asked. "You said you were busy. With what? You're working? Do you need any help?"

"No," he answered. "I mean, I'm not... I wasn't working; I finished. I was going to watch something."

"What?"

"Why do you care?"

"I'm curious," Donna stated. "You only watch C-SPAN, MSNBC and CNN."

"I watch other things," he said defensively.

"It's not even close to baseball season so there can't be any Mets related programming," Donna stated. "Besides, your TV isn't even on."

"I just got here," he said, but her stare told him she wasn't buying the line. "Fine. I was going to watch a home movie my mother sent me; does that satisfy the inquisition?"

"Anna sent you a movie?" she smiled.

"Yeah," Josh nodded. "Two, actually."

"What are they? Do you know?"

"Not really, that's why I was going to watch them," Josh answered as he moved toward the entertainment center. 

"Oh. Sounds interesting," Donna said. "You want to be alone?"

Josh shrugged. "Well, if you've got nothing better to do, you can watch it. If you want. You don't have to. I mean, if there's some place else you want to be... Another date."

Donna sighed quietly to herself. "No, I'd... I'd like to watch it."

Donna gingerly sat down on the couch, careful to leave enough space between them.

Josh picked up the remote and sat down next to her, significantly closing the gap between them. "I'm warning you, this could be boring."

"Or embarrassing," she pointed out.

"Good point," he paused before pressing play. "Maybe I should screen it in private."

"Worried it'll ruin my image of you?" Donna said stealing the remote from him.  
  
"No," he said, though his tone said the answer was a resounding YES. "My mother said it's a compilation of the movies she got from her cousin and something that one of the coven..... I mean, one of the wives of the Plimpton and Dubois partners put together for her and some other stuff she found in the attic when she moved. She liked the President's movie idea and had all the old films and the video tapes put on discs. She sent me copies."

Donna pushed play. "Well, let's see it."

"Okay, but you won't know 99 percent of the people in it," Josh warned her. "I'm pretty sure it's my parents and people I know from when I was growing up in Connecticut . Really, you've had a rotten night with the world's worst date. No need to punish yourself further."

"You said it yourself," Donna smiled. "I'm an adult and capable of saying no."

"Yeah, but not to me," Josh corrected, then noticed her dubious look. "Okay, so you can."  
  
The movie faded from black. The first images were off color images and shaky camera work. Once the camera came into focus, an image of a beautiful young blond dancing with a tuxedo-clad gentleman appeared. 

"Is that your mother?" Donna asked as she gazed at the couple standing together, getting ready for their official picture.

"Yeah," Josh nodded. "This must be their wedding."

Donna gasped. "Look at her. She's beautiful. That your father?"

"The guy who looks like he's going to throw up?" Josh smiled. "Yeah."

"He did look a little green," she chuckled.

"It's bad coloring on the film," Josh pointed out.

Donna looked from the television to him. "You look a lot like him."

"I look more like my grandfather actually," he clarified.

"Well, I see a strong resemblance," she replied as the first segment faded to black. The next segment started. "Ah. What's this? Family reunion?"

Josh squinted at the screen. "No. I think that's... Yeah. My dad's law firm used to have this family day thing in the summer..."

"Looks fun."

A young girl appeared in front of the camera waving and smiling like a movie star. Donna caught Josh momentarily stiffen when seeing the image.

"That's your sister?"

"Yeah, he sighed, staring at the television. 

Donna returned to her viewing. "And where were you?"

"From how old she looks, I might not even be born yet." Anna suddenly appeared, holding hands with a little boy who was having trouble walking because he kept tripping and wouldn't let go of the rock in his hand. 

"Cute baby," Donna remarked.

"I really was."

Donna looked at Josh. "That's you?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

"Oh my God, it is you," she cooed as she cuddled closer. "Aw, how adorable..." 

Baby Josh ripped free from his mother's grasp and immediately fell down.

"And graceful," he winced as Donna laughed.

The next few images were a variety of shots of news conferences outside the courthouse with Josh's father, Noah. Following that were more company picnics that showed the Lyman children growing older.

Shortly, the two children ceased to appear and only one remained. There were a variety of family gatherings. The later clips came with sound. Eventually there was a screen showing an adult Josh sitting on a couch, with something in his hand. A banner on the wall proclaimed Happy Birthday, Noah. Josh offered him an envelope. The elder Lyman opened the envelope and grinned broadly and proudly.

"Do you all see this?" Noah's proclaimed, waving a letter in the air. "Ha! That's my boy! Yale. My son--Harvard graduate--going to Yale Law the number one law school in the country. The number one undergraduate school and now the best law school. Two best schools in the country and my son, everyone, my boy will have degrees from them both. He's brilliant. Takes right after me." 

Donna chuckled. "He worshipped you."

"Feeling was mutual," Josh said as Donna laid her head on his shoulder.

"How many years were they married at this?" Donna asked as she pointed to the television which showed the Lymans celebrating an anniversary.

"Uh, that's 35 years," Josh replied. "You talked to your mom this week?"

"Yeah, she replied, thinking of her father. "She's heading out to Vegas with some friends of hers."

"Vegas?" Josh asked. "Do you have the bail money saved up?"

"Can you loan me it?"

"If I gave you money it would make our arrangement illegal," Josh smirked. He then nudged her closer to him. "So how was dinner?"

"Good," Donna sighed. "I had lobster bisque."

"You went where again?"

"Phoebe's," she answered. "Which, ironically, I always seem to go whenever I have a date. I really think I should try a new restaurant."

"Next time you should," Josh agreed. "Sam and I got pizza from Bertucci's."

Donna leaned up to look at Josh. "You and Sam? The two of the most eligible bachelors in the White House spent Valentine's Day together."

"Hey, day's not over yet," Josh replied, looking at his watch.

"Yes it is," Donna countered as she pointed to the clock above the entertainment center. It read just after midnight .

"Technicality," Josh replied. "Sam's home alone right now and... I'm not."

Donna rolled her eyes. "Nothing gets by you, Josh."

"So?" Josh began as the movie ended, "that's it."

"Yep," she agreed. "That's one. You have two."

Josh flipped off the player. "One's enough for the night."

"It was a wonderful movie, Josh," Donna reiterated.

"Mom's thinking of entering it at Sundance, but I told her to take it to Caan."

"Ooo, France ," she smiled. "I've always wanted to go there for a vacation."

"Well, you should some time," he said, flipping off the television.

"I'll get around to it," Donna stated.

They sat in silence for a moment before Josh spoke. "What are your plans for the rest of the night?"

"Why? Are you whisking me off for a weekend jaunt to France?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Actually, I was going to bed," he announced, kissing the top of her head.

Donna released herself from Josh's hold and stood. "Oh. Well, then. I'll leave you to it."

"I could whisk you off in that direction if you'd like," he whispered as he joined her off the couch and wrapped his arms around her. "Unless you've got a better offer waiting." 

****************

_Roosevelt Room_

_Thursday, 2 p.m._  
  
Leo entered the room as all of Josh's deputies departed. The Chief of Staff had received two messages after lunch. One from his deputy and one from a union leader in California. Both said essentially the same thing: there was trouble on the docks.

Josh said nothing as he met Leo's gaze. Instead, he stood and streched his legs. He had been in meetings in this room all day and considered movement a luxury. He moved toward the wall near the door and leaned on it as he waited for the obvious answer--the one that occurred to him two hour earlier after receiving hos own message from California --came to the Chief of Staff's mind. The present circumstance with Secretary Cortez would make things tricky, but the media storm might also be useful, Josh knew.

"You got an idea?" Leo asked finally. 

"You already know it," Josh said. 

"Do I pay you for some reason other than to tell me I already know the answer and don't need you?" Leo asked.

"Hell if I know," Josh replied then answered the earlier question. "Leo, we've got to send him."

"This thing with the girl..."

"It's dying down," Josh said. "It's getting stale. A trip to the other coast will get him out of DC."

"It puts Cortez in front of cameras," Leo argued.

"As a former, federal arbitrator who has a reputation of being tough on unions but who, oddly enough, has an amazing rapport with these guys in California ," Josh offered. "The story about his personal life takes a backseat to this."

"Contract negotiation is sexier than a sex scandal?" Leo asked. "Where have I been?"

"Leo."

"I know what you're saying, Josh, but this is not Cortez's job," Leo said. "The guy is going to play duck and cover from the media as much as possible right now. He's not going home to jump into the middle of this. And he shouldn't. It's not his job."

"His job has a few facets and one of them is to act as the instrument of the administration and assist the country where possible," Josh argued. "I seem to recall that I've been asked for my input on speeches and a variety of other matters not explicitly in my job description."

"Fine," Leo waved off the argument. "But he won't do it unless the President asks personally, and if we have to do that, then we have to say that they spoke and that opens up one of those holes I don't need the President to fall into right now."

"So don't have the President ask," Josh said. "Cortez can be convinced without the President personally stepping in. He'll know it's what the President wants; it just won't be coming from his mouth."

"Who?"

"Me," Josh said.

"You?" Leo repeated doubtfully. "You can convince Cortez?"

"I can be persuasive," Josh replied. "Leo, we've got seventeen days left on the agreement out there. That's more time than I need."

"The guy is going to say no and if he does...."

"He won't say no," Josh said. "I give you my word, Leo. I'll get him to California."

**Up next, Chapter 5: _Mishap_**


	5. Mishap

**Title**: **HEAVEN AND HELL, _Mishap _**(Chapter Five)  
**Authors: Enigmatic Ellie and Westwinger247**  
**Webpage: **  
**Notes**: _This is the sequel to THE QUEST. Thanks to those of you who followed us from one series to the next._

_White House Briefing Room _

_Tuesday, __March 17th_

_1:30 p.m._

CJ breezed into the briefing room, notebook and glasses in hand. She was greeted with the usual round of good afternoons from the press corp. 

"I have a few statements to make and then I'll take your questions," CJ said. "The President and First Lady would like to congratulate Congressman Schneider and his wife on the birth of their daughter Rebecca this morning. The President will be leaving tomorrow morning at 8 to travel to Fort Hood, Texas to visit with the troops and will return later that day to greet the World Champion New York Mets here at the White House. We're trying to contain Josh Lyman's enthusiasm so we're not telling him exactly what time they'll be arriving."

"CJ!" Katie screamed as she waved her pencil in the air.

"Katie?"

"Was Secretary Cortez ordered to California to deal with the dock workers?"

CJ shook her head. "Secretary Cortez is an expert in dealing with unions. He knows both sides of this current impasse quite well. He has agreed to assist in the mediation of the dispute. The White House is confident that he can help resolve the problems."

"So he wasn't ordered to keep him out of the spotlight surrounding his...," Steve followed.

"I don't think him being at the center of one of the most reported domestic issues at the moment is an effort to hide anything, do you?" CJ countered.

Another reporter jumped in. "CJ, could you explain more about the Texas trip?"

"Sure," she replied. "The President is traveling to Fort Hood to thank the troops for their hard work and dedication. He also plans to announce a bill proposal for the military. Before you ask, information will be released to you on the plane. The President hopes that both the House and the Senate will ban together and support this bill."

Carol quietly slipped up to the podium and handed CJ a note.

"This just in," CJ announced, "Senator Kathleen Montgomery and Congressman Jack Schiff will be accompanying the President to Texas tomorrow."

"To show the spirit of bipartisanship?" Steve asked. "Considering the Senator is Republican and the Congressman is a Democrat."

CJ smiled and closed her notebook. "Well, Steve, they both represent the state of Texas and didn't hesitate when asked to accompany the President to the base. That's all for now; I'll see you at 5."

CJ exited the podium with Danny quick on her heels.

"CJ, one quick question!" Danny yelled after her.

"Yes, Danny," CJ stopped and sighed.

"How annoying is Josh right now, with the Mets arriving tomorrow?" the reporter grinned.

"No more than usual. The President's threatened to ban him from the ceremony if he doesn't work like a good little Deputy Chief of Staff."

"You gonna be there?"

"Yes."

"Need a date?" Danny asked.

"I don't need a date for this Danny," CJ glared. "It's a photo op. The President will receive a jersey with his name on it and give a ten minute speech on the history of the curve ball."

"Can't blame a guy for trying."

"Go away."

*****************

Sam watched the end of the briefing on the TV above Ginger's desk. Toby entered the bullpen looking particularly determined. Sam took this as a cue to follow him into his office.

"So I have this plan," he began without preamble.

Toby turned and glared at him.

"Are you.... I'm sorry, you're in my office, so I probably shouldn't ask, but are you speaking to me?" Toby said.

"Yes," Sam nodded, undeterred. "I was telling you that I have a plan."

"Wonderful," Toby said curtly. "Go away."

"It's a good plan," Sam nodded. "A wise plan, sage almost. In fact, the more I think about it, it's beyond reasonable and frankly obvious. But it has more than that going for it."

"No doubt," Toby shook his head. "I love it. Go do it. Far from me. Now."

"It's also virtuous," Sam said finally.

"I'm sorry?"

"So am I, that's what makes it so perfect," Sam explained. 

"What are you...."

"My plan," Sam said. "It has the added value of being virtuous. If it works, I'm redeemed. Not that I was damned, but I did feel bad and that sort of made this whole thing my fault in a minor but almost direct way, which was something that I was having trouble..."

"Sam!"

"I'm going to fix this problem with Donna," he said quickly getting to the point.

"You're having a problem with her?"

"It's the love thing," Sam whispered. "I'm going to put an end to it without breaking her heart. That's my plan."

"Times like these I'm very encouraged that you're a senior advisor to the President," Toby moaned. 

"I am a man who has found salvation," Sam proclaimed. "Now that CJ's finished, I can do this."

"Are you going to make her love CJ instead?"

"What?" Sam said startled. "No, but that's close. Well, not close. I mean, it's the right idea, but I gotta tell you, CJ is all wrong for her. I mean, first there's the fact that they're both women and neither of them are lesbians, but beyond that, there's just no chemistry there. There's friendship, to be sure, but that extra..."

"Sam."

"I've passed the point where you care?" he ventured.

"The moment you walked in," Toby replied crisply.

Sam nodded again then walked with a spring in his step toward the hall leading to CJ's office. He needed a woman's opinion and as CJ was both a woman and one with opinions, she was the leading candidate to help. He was going to seek a final confirmation that he was on the right track. He knew he could count on her to be both interested and level headed about this. 

*****************

"Are you kidding me?" CJ snorted as she continued laughing minutes later as Sam started to explain his plan.

Sam stood red-faced with his hands dug defensively into his pockets. She wasn't being as helpful as he hoped.

"I think it makes a lot of sense," he said feebly. "Transference."

"Sam, she doesn't love you," CJ chuckled. "Trust me."

"I know love when I see it," Sam argued. "She's all smiley and... and... and glowing. She's always happy when I see her. I feel bad for her."

"And you think it's for you?"

"Yes!" he shouted, then lowered his voice. "CJ, Donna was never like this before. I know. So I've thought about this, and I think it is the kindest way to do this."

"You want to set her up with someone to..," CJ guffawed. "To deflect the love?"

"That was just an analogy," Sam said. "And it's not like this is just some random stranger. This is someone who she had feelings for previously. I'm just going to rekindle the spark."

"Do you have to use matches for that?"

"I'm serious," Sam huffed.

"I know; that's what makes it so funny," CJ continued, wiping tears from her eyes and she tried to catch her breath. "Okay, who? You have to tell me."

"No, I don't think I will," Sam replied in a scorned tone.

"Sam."

"You laughed so you don't get to know," he said turned deftly on his heel to exit the room. "It's a good plan."

"Whatever you say, Romeo," CJ giggled. "Just don't turn off the love too quickly or she'll go into withdrawal."

*****************

_The White House _

_2:30 p.m. _

Josh strolled across the northwest lobby on the way to his office while reading a memo. He at the threshold to his office when he was jolted by a sharp pain in his upper right arm.

"Ow! What the hell?" Josh turned around to find his assistant standing if front of him with a mischievous grin.

"Good afternoon," she chirped.

"Did you just…do something to me?" he asked cautiously.

"I did," Donna admitted with a nod. "I pinched you."

"Pinched me?" Josh asked then lowered his voic. "Donna, we're working."

"I know."

"You know?" he repeated. "Donna."

"It's St. Patrick's Day, Josh," Donna said as she rolled her eyes. 

"We've known this all day," he informed her.

"Yes, but I just noticed that you're not wearing green," Donna explained. "I'm Irish."

"You're a Canadian who became an American," he informed her. 

"It's my heritage," Donna asserted.

"You're also Protestant," Josh continued. "St. Patrick is a Catholic icon."

"He's Irish," she countered.

"He was originally born in Scotland and enslaved in Ireland," Josh continued.

"Some of the lore for St. Patrick includes the belief that Patrick raised people from the dead," Donna said, ignoring his offering. "He also is said to have given a sermon from a hilltop that drove all the snakes from Ireland. Of course, no snakes were ever native to Ireland, and some people think this is a metaphor for the conversion of the pagans. Though originally a Catholic holy day, St. Patrick's Day has evolved into more of a secular holiday."

"How much of that did you think I actually cared about?" Josh sighed.

"I think you need more culture," Donna explained.

"So why the pinching?"

"You're not wearing green."

"We've established that," Josh said. "What I'm asking is why do you pinch people who are not wearing green?"

"Well…"

"You don't know," Josh surmised with a dimpled smirk.

"I'm Irish, that's all I need," Donna huffed. "Did it hurt?"

"Yes," he replied, rubbing his arm.

"Good," she smirked and leaned in. "And while this is neither the time nor the place to make it feel better, it could be remedied this weekend."

"Donna!" Josh admonished as she turned on her heels and walked to her desk.

"You need to call Senator McKinney," she called over her shoulder.

"Yep," he sighed and shut the door.

Donna exited Josh's office as he closed the door behind her. She as heard the latch catch she imagined the furrow in his brow and the puzzled look in his eyes; it made her grin suddenly. As she did so, she looked up to see Sam in front of her. He sported a fake smile that spoke of some inner worry he was hiding. She had seen him wearing it often lately. 

"How are you Sam?" she asked brightly, hoping her vivacious mood might rub off on him.

"I'm fine," he said tensely.

"Yes, you are," Donna winked at him as she flicked his tie and strutted past. Nothing could bring her mood down, not even a tense and petrified Sam.

She dropped into her chair and started humming softly. Sam watched this and felt his heart sink. He needed to put his plan--and it was a good plan--into action soon. If this continued any longer, he feared Donna would begin stalking him or growing delusional.

*****************

_Georgetown_

_9:48 p.m. Tuesday_

Josh opened the door to his apartment and was struck by something odd instantly. The lights were on; he had noticed in a detached way as he had approached the building after parking his car across the street. It hadn't concerned him at the time, but arriving in the actual place now it did. He did not recall leaving them on when he left that morning; then again, he wasn't really paying attention. His mind was on discussions he would be having that day with Secretary Cortez on his trip to California.

With an interested eye, Josh scanned the hall and the room beyond. His ears picked up the faint strains of music. His mind registered the artist quickly: Beth Nielson Chapman. That could only mean one thing.

"Donna," he called as he flung his jack over the back of a chair in the kitchen.

"I'm in here," she called from the vicinity of the living room. 

"I got that," he answered. "Do you happen to have food?"

"In fact, I do," she responded.

_There is a God,_ Josh thought thankfully. He wearily walked toward the dim lights in the living room hoping desperately that her definition of food did not mean Tofu in this instance.

"I cooked," she said simply as stood to face him he appeared in the door way.

All thoughts of eating evaporated for him. She was wearing a shimmering blue thing--his mind was a blur and could only conjure the words "nightie thingy" in trying to describe it. There were spaghetti straps and lace on the front and a slit up the side that went from the floor to her mid-thigh.

"Your thing," he said with a strained voice as he pointed to her leg. "It's ripped."

"It's supposed to be like that," she informed him with a grin. 

He looked both frightened and hypnotized. For all the things Josh could make her feel, it was this very expression more than any other nor any words he could use that made her feel adored, devastatingly beautiful and completely naive about the harshest aspects of relationships. All other men in her past had cast her aside as being as valued as wet pocket lint, but by not saying a word Josh could make her forget that those times ever happened.

"It's my grandmother's," Donna continued as she sat down and gestured to plates on the coffee table.

"I'm sorry?" Josh asked suddenly, his expression changing to one of horror.

"Her spaghetti sauce recipe," Donna scoffed and rolled her eyes. 

"Good, because I was gonna say...," Josh started then shook his head and took a seat beside her. "Actually, I really don't think I had anything to say if it was..."

"Shut up before you end up wearing your dinner," Donna commanded.

She started eating, keeping her eye on him as he pushed food around in his plate. He seemed perplexed and this pleased her. For being a successful politician, Josh's motives and emotions were always glaringly obvious. He was starving--she knew this from the grouchy way he said good bye to her at the office an hour earlier--but apparently her apparel was fighting a mighty battle over which he needed more: sustenance or....

"You look a little peaked," she said, stifling a smirk. "If you don't eat, you might starve to death."

"Dying a happy man is its own reward, I hear," he answered, moving closer to her.

"No, no," she pushed him back as she took his fork and placed some food in his mouth before he could kiss her. "See, pasta. Stamina food--long night ahead."

"You're evil and I'm not hungry," he lied as he chewed then swallowed. "Okay, maybe a little hungry, but..."

"Later," she promised. "We're going to have a nice meal--no rushing and no playing. This is my new gown and I don't want spaghetti sauce on it."

"Well, then you should take it off," he suggested, plucking at the thin strap over her shoulder. "I'll help you."

"Joshua!" she scolded and slapped his hand. "You're not desperate nor have you been deprived recently. Try to remember that you are a civilized and mature... well, mostly mature adult. Waiting 30 minutes so we can have a nice, relaxing meal will not kill you.

"You don't know that," he protested, picking up his plate and eating as he argued.

"I'm willing to take that risk," she smiled.

She bit back a laugh from the pinched and disappointed look on his face. She was grateful she did as the buzzer for the door sounded unexpectedly. Both froze instantly. Josh made no move to move. A look of fear filled his eyes. The buzzer sounded again followed by Sam's voice.

"Josh, I know you're there," Sam called. "This is important. Never mind, the guy is letting me in. I'm coming up."

Donna grabbed her flimsy robe and ran to the bedroom and closed the door. Josh looked at his cell phone and pager. Both were on and neither had any messages. He visible worry he got up and went to the door, arriving just as Sam began knocking.

"Hi," Sam said in a serious tone as Josh opened the door then stepped inside without being invited. "This is kind of awkward and I didn't think I should talk to you about it at the office."

Josh leaned on the door and looked at the now empty doorway. He had mixed emotions. First, he was relieved there was no imminent catastrophe about to befall the administration--Sam was obviously having a personal dilemma. His other feeling was mild rage. Part of him contemplated choking Sam for interrupting his evening. 

"No," Josh said quickly.

"No what?"

"Or yes," Josh continued. "Whichever answer sounds best to you, I agree with it and we really should discuss the whole thing at great length--some other time."

"It's about Donna," Sam sighed.

"I'm sorry?"

"Donna," Sam continued, reading the blank look on Josh's face with sorrow. "This is what I'm talking about. The two of you... I'm worried."

"You are?" Josh said slowly, feeling his heart beat in his throat. 

"She and you," Sam began. "That is... I think that she's.... There's this thing, between her and someone, only it's not exactly...."

"Sam?" Josh interrupted, realizing his secret was still safe. 

"I'm worried about Donna," Sam simplified his plan. He was going to just sew the seeds and let Josh's natural instinct to insinuate himself in Donna's world take over. That would be easier than playing matchmaker, he decided.

"She's fine," Josh replied, thwarting Sam's plan.

"She's not."

"Trust me, she is," Josh assured him and turned back to the door. "Thanks for the concern. Have a nice...."

"I just think that...," Sam began as he walked further into the apartment. 

He paused as he spied the coffee table: two plates, two wine glasses, dim lights. Sam then looked toward the closed door to Josh's bedroom then back at Josh with an embarrassed grin.

"Oh my," Sam grinned. "This is why you're... And you don't want me to.... Am I interrupting something?"

"Not really," Josh lied unconvincingly.

Sam stepped back toward Josh and lowered his voice. His worries upon entering the apartment now forgotten.

"She's hiding?"

"Who?"

"Your guest," Sam said gesturing back to the table. "You don't even like red wine and I don't see take out cartons; she cooked dinner for you?"

"Leave," Josh said quietly begging.

"Sure," Sam smirked and headed to the door before pausing. "I just gotta know, who is it?"

"No one."

"It is Maggie Laramie?" Sam asked. "No, that red-head, Sheila whoever, the one who writes for Time who always giggles and falls all over herself when you talk to her?"

"Yeah, all of them," Josh said, pushing Sam out the door.

"Oh, I know," he turned. "Christine Hock--the consultant who was a little too agreeable with you on Capital Beat last week."

"Good night, Sam," Josh said.

"Wait," he paused. "What about Donna?"

"Huh?"

"The problem with Donna," Sam answered. "I have this... I'm worried about her and..."

"Sam, it's obvious to me that you really don't know what's going on with Donna," Josh said, sounding relieved. "I submit that perhaps that means there is no problem with her. I'm sure she'd appreciate your concern and you should talk with her about it--tomorrow. 'Bye."

Josh closed the door on Sam who walked solemnly down the stairs. It had been a good plan, a smart and neat plan. Now, he'd need a new one. He was happy for Josh that he had a personal life that involved more than just coming home and watching Chris Matthews argue about what the administration had done wrong recently or watching the Mets get trounced by half of the major league. But that still left Sam with a Donna problem.

*****************

The White House

Thursday, 9:45 a.m.

Sam meandered to the Mess for a cup of coffee. He was dismayed. The coffee he bought from Poppytwist on his way to the office was substandard. He had been looking forward to his morning indulgence, hoping it would give him inspiration for a new solution to the Donna dilemma--he had ceased calling it the Donna problem because it had such a negative connotation and he didn't want to put blame on her. After all, he could not fault her for falling madly in love with him. It was an easy faux pas to make, he believed.

He had seen her twice that morning and each time she greeted him a most chipper fashion--not that she didn't do that every day--but there was extra exuberance in her smile and greeting. It wreaked of a woman in love and that had soured his morning java.

"Hey, Sam," Charlie nodded to him. "Did another cat die?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You look depressed," Charlie explained. "I was wondering if you had another pet you didn't like die."

"No, see, I had this plan," Sam shook his head. "It was a good plan. Only it didn't work, so I guess in retrospect you gotta ask the question: Was it really a good plan?"

"And was it?"

"I think so," Sam said listlessly. "It was perfect."

"Except the part where it failed?"

"Exactly," Sam nodded.

"Can I help?"

"Not unless you can make Donna fall in love with you without breaking her heart over me and making things uncomfortable here in the office," Sam sighed.

"I'm sorry?"

"That's my problem," Sam said. "I'm trying to set Donna up with someone so that she won't.... you know..."

"Donna's got a thing for you?"

"Yeah."

"Donna Moss?"

"Yes."

"The one who works upstairs?" Charlie continued. "Thin, blond lady, always two steps behind Josh?"

"You know who I mean," Sam answered.

Charlie laughed, unable to hid his mirth. Sam glared at him.

"I'm sorry," Charlie said, recovering his composure. "It probably didn't seem like it at the time, but that was a laugh of support and solidarity."

"Thank you."

"Explain something," Charlie asked. "How did you know that Donna.... I mean, are you sure..."

"Oh, I'm sure," Sam said. "I know love, or at least a deep crush, when I see it. And it's my fault. It is. I know it. I admit it. I said some things when she was at a vulnerable point and not having anyone else around to..... comfort her like that, she mistook my friendship as something more. I've tried and tried, but she's still looking at me the same and I think she hit on me the other day."

"She did?"

"She said I looked fine," Sam replied, a red tinge welling his cheeks. "It was her tone."

"I see," Charlie nodded. "Have you talked to Josh?"

"Yeah, I thought of that," Sam shook his head and tasted the bitter Mess coffee. "I went to see him last night, but he apparently has an extra curricular friend, which just shows how distracted this thing has me because I didn't even know about that. I still don't know who she is, except that she was there and hiding when I was talking to him."

"She was hiding?" Charlie asked, keeping his face in check. "So you have no idea who Josh's lady friend is?"

"None," Sam said. "I have my suspicions--I've narrowed the field down to two. I don't mean I'm not glad for him, but I was sort of hoping he might be someone who was interested in Donna so I..."

"Wait," Charlie interrupted him. "You wanted to set up Josh and Donna? I thought you were the one who thought..."

Sam shook his head and lowered his voice, his expression telling Charlie to do the same.

"That was then," Sam said. "This is different. I'm not worried about re-election because we did that already. I never thought that I would be so good at.... what I was good at. Now, I'm paying the price."

"Your life is a regular Greek play," Charlie said knowingly as CJ breezed into the room. "Hey, CJ. Sam's got a problem."

"Old news," she said continuing by as she headed for the stairs. "I have some of my own. Leo here?"

"He was in his office a minute ago," Charlie said as she departed.

CJ continued up the stairs and headed for the Chief of Staff's Office. She arrived to find Leo on the phone with a pinched and pained expression. 

"Amanda," Leo said into the receiver. "I'm not going to answer that. Why? Because I'm not. Personally, I'd rather see it be banned entirely…" 

CJ stopped at the threshold and looked in. "No…Amanda…Look, I've got important business to do…I will." 

"Problem?" she asked and stepped in. 

Leo hung up the phone. "My niece. Thinks I can do something about Augusta National." 

"The protests," CJ concluded. "It's a viable one, Leo. And I'm not saying it simply because I'm a woman." 

"Really." 

CJ took a seat. "Leo, clubs like these are made up of mostly rich men—corporate executives. These guys start by banning women at a county club. Then it goes into the boardroom. Women are just as capable of running Fortune 500 companies as men. Susan Kropf at Avon; Marion Sandler at Golden West;—those are two women who are at the top of the corporate ladder. And it's a shame that there are this few. There should be more." 

"CJ," Leo warned as he peered over his glasses, "The White House is not going to get into this. It's a private club." 

"It's discriminatory!" CJ argued. "They are excluding women, not to mention that they're excluding…" 

"Enough!" Leo demanded. "We're not getting into this today or any other day. It's a membership issue of a _private_ club. Let's leave it at that, shall we?" 

"Yes, sir." 

Leo picked up a memo. "Now, did you have something for me?"

"California," CJ said. "They've agreed to start the talks Satruday afternoon. Josh is putting Cortez on the 6 a.m. flight on Saturday."

"Good," Leo said. "He goes sooner and..."

"It gives them time to split hairs about the color of the coffee cups on the table for the meeting the next day," CJ nodded.

"Anything that keeps them from the table will not be viewed very kindly by me," Leo added. "Josh has him on the plane?"

"He had Donna make the reservations," CJ answered. 

*****************

_CJ Cregg's Office_

_Thursday, 1:15 p.m._

Donna entered CJ's office to deliver her lunch. Donna had offered to grab something for her when she went to get her own lunch. Donna planned to eat at her own desk after--she was trying to limit the time she spent in Josh's office. She found she was distracting him at times--he seemed to be afraid that she might launch herself over the desk and have her way with him. He didn't seem to oppose the idea entirely, but the serious dimple was appeared whenever she entered his layer as a reminder of their agreement.

"Thank you," CJ said as Donna handed her the container holding her salad. "Have a seat."

"A seat?" Donna asked.

"Yeah, sit," CJ nodded. "I don't like eating alone. Besides, you can hide in here from Ivan the Terrible for half an hour. He's been in too good of a mood lately; that means you and I need to have a talk."

"It does?" Donna responded hesitantly.

"Donna, I've worked with him for more than five years," CJ said. "Do you think I haven't figured out what that means?"

"I don't know," she replied uncertainly.

"Sam filled me in on a few things, and I've got eyes of my own," CJ explained as she dug into her lunch. "The boys may try to hide things from me--not that it works, but they have their little games. Doesn't matter. I see what's going on. You don't have to tell me anything. I know."

"You do?" Donna said and sat instantly.

"Has he got you running around, concocting believable but only just barely stories to cover up?" 

"Um...," Donna bit her lip and felt her face turn a soft shade of pink.

"She's someone new," CJ continued.

"Who is?"

"His new conquest," CJ said. "This is a new tactic for him--the whole quiet approach. I think he might finally be growing up--not to be confused with being mature, though I suppose anything is possible. Then again, it could mean something else."

"It could?"

"He cares about this one," CJ answered. "Not that he didn't care about Amy in some weird, lusty, cerebral infatuated way. Mandy was just.... a mistake. But I think this one is different. He's keeping it to himself--Sam didn't even know until last night. Then again, Sam's got love issues of his own right now."

"He does?" Donna asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from the train wreck she feared it was heading toward. "Let's talk about those."

"Sam just needs a nap," CJ waved the detour off. "Josh, on the other hand, is something I want to discuss with you. This is serious. I mean, I don't think it's a problem kind of serious. I think it's serious with him, for him--and that in itself is serious."

Donna said nothing. She chewed on CJ's words. She agreed with them and was deeply pleased to hear that someone else noticed Josh's contentment and was assigning it to the same thing she was. However, she wasn't sure how she could agree without saying something she wasn't supposed to say. It was the last troubling piece of her relationship with Josh--the fact it was a secret and something he wasn't ready to call a relationship. She was willing to wait; she knew she loved him and was certain he felt the same. It might take him a long while to realize it, but Donna felt the time it would take for him to realize it would be worth the wait.

"Hey!" CJ said, snapping her fingers, drawing Donna back from her internal musing. "Ah ha! That's it!"

"No, it's not," Donna said feebly, knowing her cover was blown.

"Yes, it is," CJ said, as she jumped up from her seat to close the door to her office. "Spill it."

Donna felt the pink in her cheeks grow red.

"Donna, it's all the proof I need," CJ continued as she perched on the edge of her desk. "I don't know why either of you think you can keep secrets. Well, I know why he does: He's delusional. But you? You're smarter than that."

"CJ, I don't know what to...," Donna began but was cut off.

"I'm not asking you to commit treason," CJ said in a calculated manner. "You can keep his secret for him; that's honorable... I think. Let's pretend you've told me whatever little story he wants or whatever cover he's dreamed up. Fine. We're done with that, but he's a damn fool if he thinks it'll work. I mean, the fact that you've been able to keep this a secret is all the proof I need."

"CJ, you can't...," Donna began.

"Where did you meet him?" CJ asked.

"I'm sorry?" Donna replied, shaking her head, not sure she heard correctly. "You know how we met. I drove to New Hampshire to..."

"No," CJ cut her off. "Not Josh. The guy."

"The guy?"

"Your new man," CJ said. "Whoever it was you were just day dreaming about. Josh is finally content enough with his own personal life that he's either: A. decided to let you have a personal life of your own; or B. so wrapped up in his life that he hasn't noticed that you've got a new stud in the stable."

"A what?"

"Sorry," CJ shook her head. "Danny was in here before talking about horse racing and it was a thing."

"Is he a fan?"

"Who cares," CJ said. "You have to tell me. I mean, you don't have to, but since I don't have anything on the horizon--and Danny doesn't count because he's always there so he's not really there--so I need to live vicariously. You have this cloudy look about you recently, and while I know that a woman doesn't need a man and whatever, whatever, I know the look of a woman who's having great sex regularly."

"There's a look?" Donna asked curiously. "I have that look?"

"It's like those lamps atop lighthouses to those of us stuck out here in the fog," CJ said. "Who is he?"

"He's just someone," Donna replied with a smirk. "Someone special."

"How special?" CJ asked dragging a chair over to sit beside her.

"I don't know," Donna smiled demurely. "Just special."

"How did you meet?"

"We met while working, I guess," Donna shrugged.

"So he's in politics," CJ nodded. "More."

"What more?"

"Basic vitals," CJ said. "Name, job, list of single friends who are understanding of women with demanding schedules."

"I'm not sure about this," Donna said, laughing nervously. "We have this rule. Well, not a rule so much as a motto. I mean, it is a rule but..."

"Donna."

"The office is the office and out of the office is out of the office," she explained. "I guess it's more of a credo."

"Okay, so you leave work behind. Fine, no name--yet," CJ relented. "You have to tell me something though."

"Well, he's intelligent and quite handsome," Donna grinned. "He's single, of course. And he has a beautiful smile."

"You're walking around in an ecstasy trance and all you'll give me is the beautiful smile line?" CJ sighed. "Not that a good smile isn't something worth mentioning. Who am I kidding, I'd love any man who didn't smirk or give me that patronizing..."

"CJ, is this my story or yours?"

"Well, I guess it's yours," she relented with a sigh. "Go on."

"There's really nothing else to say," Donna shrugged.

"Seeing as I know nothing more than he apparently has straight teeth and a pair of lips, there's a lot you could say," CJ prompted. "What does he do?"

"He... does a lot of things," Donna said. "He's a lawyer."

"Well, that narrows it down to three fourths of the men in this town," CJ observed. "Have I met him?"

"Um, yes," Donna said cautiously. "But he's no one you'd think of so don't drive yourself nuts or grill me about it."

"Okay," CJ said. "How long have you..."

"It's been off and on for a while," Donna said. "Since I got back from Wisconsin, it's been on. Really on. I mean... Well, never mind."

"Vixen," CJ scoffed under her breath as she began to laugh.

"I am... not," Donna said, joining her in the chuckling. "It's not like that. I mean, it is, but that's not..."

"You are!" CJ crowed. "You've got your self a hottie. You've got a stud on the side."

"It's not all like that," Donna said, wiping her eyes as she regained her composure. "He's very sweet. I mean, not like opening doors and love notes sweet. He just... he treats me like an equal, and he accepts me as I am. He's everything I ever wanted--even a few things I didn't know I wanted until I met him. I mean, there's arrogance there, but it's the sexy kind."

"The sexy kind?" CJ cooed. "Uh huh. So is he.... I mean..... Everything's... um.... He has favorable approval rating across the board?"

Donna paused and caught herself giggling. She felt safe enough in her lack of information to let CJ revel in her pleasure.

"Have you ever had a man make your toes curl?" Donna asked in a low, confidential voice.

"It's been so long I don't remember," CJ gasped in envy.

Donna shook her head. 

"Roll your eyes back in your head and all your muscles turn to Jell-O," Donna continued in a matter-of-fact tone. 

"Does he have a brother?"

"No," Donna said, grinning widely.

"You're just killing me slowly, Donna," CJ said slumping in her chair. "Next thing you'll tell me is that he's never late for your dates, and he always picks up the check."

"No, not really," Donna answered. "He's never managed any of that."

"Good," CJ nodded. "Wait, he makes you pay and is always late. He sounds like a...."

"No, it's just that we don't seem to go anywhere but his place," Donna defended.

"You tramp!"

"Hey," Donna protested. "There's a couple reasons for that. There's not a lot of places to go when you get off work at 1 a.m."

"Okay, that's true," CJ said. "But forgive me for saying this, Donna: I hate you right now."

"That's quite all right," Donna accepted the statement. "I'd hate me too if I wasn't so happy. I'm not naive enough to think he's the one--except that I think he is."

"Don't go there, Donna," CJ warned her.

"I know, I know," Donna agreed. "It's just that.... That's what I was thinking before when you caught me; I was thinking that I think he is and I think he thinks I am.... I mean, he hasn't said anything, and we don't talk about this kind of stuff, but he's... Even his friends and co-workers tell me they've never see him so... centered and happy. "

"If he's so special and he's the one, when do we meet him?" CJ asked. "We're not a pack of wolves. Well, most of us aren't. Toby is a carnivore, but he really doesn't care about what any of us do so long as it doesn't become a problem for the Communications Department. If you're worried about Josh, I'll work on him for you."

"That's okay," Donna shook her head. "I think it's best if we keep things low profile for now. How do I say this? I don't want to deceive you but.... Because of what he does, we should keep things private."

"And he's in politics?"

"There hasn't been any scandal on CNN in the last few hours, so I'm guessing he's still involved," Donna said cryptically.

"Is the reason you're not telling me a whole lot is because of party affiliation?" CJ asked. "He's Republican?"

Donna laughed unexpectedly at this.

"No, CJ," Donna shook her head. "He's definitely a Democrat. He thinks the first three letters of the alphabet are DNC. You don't have to worry. He's on our side. He is a proud and staunch supporter of the President."

"Well, good," CJ said. "He's a good man?"

"He is," Donna said. "You'd agree, believe me. He, um, he thinks highly of you actually."

"He does?"

"He told me once that no one else around here could do your job better than you do," Donna replied truthfully.

"A fan?"

"Well, I wouldn't...."

"You've got to let me meet him," CJ begged.

"No."

"Give me his name."

"No."

"I could follow you," CJ said.

"That's stalking."

"It's curiousity."

"You're scaring me," Donna said.

"Don't make me play rough," CJ said. "I'll tell Deputy Caesar. He might be wrapped up in his own world, but he's still Josh. He can't resist monopolizing your time, making the Gomer comments, and finding ways to berate guys you date. You know what I mean?"

"Generally acting like the juvenile he truly is at heart?"

"Yes, that," CJ nodded.

"This is one guy Josh can't make fun of, CJ," Donna said confidently. "This one he approves of... or he would if he knew that I was so serious about.... that is, that I'm...."

"Josh is infantile and finds enormous pleasure thwarting your attempts at life outside the office," CJ pointed out. "I have faith in him."

"Not this time," Donna said. "It's in Josh's best interest to see that I stay happy. You might say that his happiness depends on mine."

"Now I'm suspicious," CJ said. "What do you have on..."

Before she could get any further the door to her office flew open. Josh stood there glaring at the two of them.

"Sorry to break up the sorority meeting, but some of us work for a living," he fumed. "Donna, 10 minutes. Rath will be here in 10 minutes. Know what I don't have?"

"Manners and the abitlity to knock?" CJ offered.

"The OMB report?" Donna ventured.

"The OMB report," he echoed.

"Duty calls," Donna said to CJ. "Thanks for listening."

"Any time," CJ said then softly asked. "Are you seeing him tonight?"

"I gotta go home and water my plants at least once a week," Donna answered.

"It's Thursday!" CJ exclaimed.

"It's two o'clock and you're just figuring that out," Josh remarked as he turned to leave. "I've always admired your keen grasp of the obvious, CJ."

Donna caught up with Josh moments later.

"What was that about?" he asked suspiciously.

"What was what?"

"Her being surprised it's Thursday," Josh said.

"We were talking about watering plants," Donna said innocently. "I mentioned I need to do it once a week, and I realized that I haven't this week. Well, I haven't been home to do it. She was just surprised... that I hadn't watered my plants.... and that it's already Thursday."

"I really don't care," Josh said as he headed into his office. "Just get me the report."

*****************

_Josh's Office_

_Friday, 10 a.m.. _

"Donna!" Josh yelled from behind his desk. 

"You roared?" Donna smirked as she entered his office. "What can I do you for, oh great Deputy?" 

"Oh Great Deputy?" he pondered momentarily. "You know, I think you should call me that every morning when I come into work." 

"Sure," she replied. "I'll call you that when I bring you your coffee." 

"So I guess that's a no." 

Donna smiled. "What do you need?" 

"A little respect would be nice, but I'll settle for this," Josh said as he pointed to a stack of papers crisscrossed on the corner of his desk. "Take the top pile to the Counsel's office, the middle pile to the printers and the bottom pile to that guy, uh, Bill Haley at the OEOB." 

"You mean Will Bailey," she corrected. "He's Sam's new protégé." 

"That's what I said," Josh replied. "Take that over to him." 

"You do know it's raining outside," Donna informed him. 

"Yes, so use a bag for the papers," Josh said. 

"The papers? What about me?" she asked. "My hair will get wet. I'd say I'll take your umbrella except you don't have one. Why is that? Didn't your mother ever teach you that you can catch a cold by running around in the rain?" 

"You've met my mother," Josh said in answer to her question. 

"So you just didn't listen," Donna nodded. 

"Are you still here with those papers that I said needed to be there?" 

"If I catch a cold, I'm blaming you," she said. 

**************** 

Donna delivered the first two piles quickly. She managed to borrow an umbrella from a junior staffer for her trek to the OEOB. On her way there, a quick gust of wind twisted her umbrella inside out. She made a quick dash into the building, where a blast of cold air hit her. Washington was experiencing a rare March heat wave, with temperatures in the low 80s; people were compensating by turning on fans and air conditioners. Donna shivered and continued her mission. 

She dropped the papers off at Will's office and ran back to the White House. She went to the women's locker room to grab a towel and dry off her hair when her pager chirped. She unclipped the pager from her belt and read the message from Josh. Donna swiftly ran the towel through her blond tresses and returned to the Bullpen. 

"Donna," Josh called her when she entered. "I need these taken to Natalie Price." 

"What?" she stopped. "Josh, I was just at OEOB. Why didn't you give them to me before I left?" 

"Because this just came up," he explained. "Hey, you're wet." 

"Good deduction, Sherlock," Donna groused. "The umbrella broke." 

"That's such a sad story," said as he dropped three folders and his coat into her arms. "Take these to Natalie. I'm in Leo's office for the thing. If this meeting goes well, I'm gonna need you to run a few things back to OEOB so come back here and wait for….." 

"Don't you people use e-mail?" she asked. 

"You need to stop worrying about your hairdo and remember that this is a place of important business," Josh said. "They'll need the actual documents and let me pre-empt the next question: No, they can't come here. They have what they need there and there's too much of it to bring here; we cannot go there because…." 

"Because why?" she demanded as she saw he had no good reason. 

"Because only the President gives Leo orders," Josh shrugged. "He wants to work out of his office." 

"And I get soaked?" 

"Not if you run fast or find a new umbrella," Josh offered. 

He quickly turned away and headed down the hall. Donna watched as Josh turned and disappeared from her vision. She hung her head in defeat and returned to the wet afternoon.

****************

_Operations Bullpen_

_Friday 5 p.m. _

Josh entered the Bullpen with a swagger. His meeting a success, he went to find Donna to share in his glory. He rounded the corner to find Donna hunched over her desk, shivering. 

"Donna?" he came closer. "What's going on?" 

"I told you I'd get sick," she groaned as she looked up at him. Josh noticed that her eyes were watery and heavy. "I haven't had a lot of sleep lately and now you've had me out in a typhoon...."

"Technically, to be a typhoon...," he began but was cut off swiftly by Donna.

"I have a cold," she snapped. "I felt a little iffy when I came in today, but I took a vitamin C-drop thinking it would help. I should have known that being in such close proximity to you would need something more like a vitamin C-bomb. I blame you for this. My body aches; my nose is runny; and my eyes are watery." 

"You have a cold?" Josh asked as she sneezed. 

"I do," she sniffled. "There are hundreds of different strains of the common cold and because of you I probably have 70 percent of them." 

"Okay," he nodded. "Want to hear about my meeting? It was a success. We're gonna get the votes we need for HR 109." 

"Congratulations," Donna said before blowing her nose. "What is it?" 

"Okay, Donna, that was just gross," Josh said, ignoring her amnesia on the technology bill they had been working on for the last week. 

"What you see is what you get," she replied. "What else do you need?" 

"Nothing that can't wait until Monday," he informed her. "Go home and get rid of the cold." 

"Really?" Donna said surprised. "I can go home?" 

"Yeah, I don't want you breathing on me and infecting me," Josh smirked. "Take some of your hula-bula medication." 

Donna raised an eyebrow. "Hula-bula?" 

"Do you want to go or not?" 

Donna rose and began gathering her things. "I'm gone." 

**************** 

_Donna's apartment _

_Georgetown, 7:45 p.m._

Donna exited the shower and grabbed a towel. She had hoped that a hot shower would help her feel marginally better than when she left for work that morning. She took a washcloth and rubbed the mirror clean of its condensation from the shower. She took stock of her face—puffy cheeks, baggy eyes, and a red nose. Donna rubbed her hands over her face and sighed. The next step was to grab some Nyquil from the medicine cabinet and call it a night. She quickly dressed and pulled her hair into a wet ponytail because her equilibrium couldn't take her normal hair drying routine.

Donna popped the pills into her mouth when she heard the buzzer. She quickly swallowed them with along with some water and made her way into the living room and pressed the button.

"Yes?"

"It's me," came Josh's voice through the speaker. "Can I come up?"

"Why?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"Why?!" Josh protested. "Donna, open the door."

Donna sighed and pressed the button to let him in. She made her way to the door just as he knocked.

"I can't work; I'm sick," Donna opened the door. "Whatever you have for me, it'll have to wait until tomorrow—if I live that long."

Josh held out a small white bag. "I…brought you some chicken soup."

Donna looked at him in surprise and sniffled. "You brought me soup?"

"Yeah," he responded. "Isn't that what you're supposed to eat when you're sick? You haven't eaten yet have you?"

Donna shook her head. "I haven't. Come in."

Josh entered the apartment and placed the bag on the counter. He removed his coat and placed it on the back of the chair. "Feeling any better?"

"No," she answered honestly. "I can't believe you brought me soup. That's so sweet."

"Yeah, well you'd better eat it before it gets cold," Josh instructed.

"Okay," Donna smiled. 

She opened the bag, removed the container and grabbed a spoon. She entered the living room and sat next to him. She took a spoonful. She couldn't taste anything, but it felt warm in her throat and that was heaven. She was also deeply touched by his offering. She leaned over to place a kiss on Josh's cheek.

"Hey," Josh smirked. "You're giving me your germs."

"I should," Donna declared. "If you hadn't made me go out into the rain so many times I would be just fine. Instead I'm home sick."

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "It really couldn't be helped. The ball just started rolling and I needed it done. I feel bad—that's gotta count for something."

Donna finished her soup and set the bowl on the coffee table. She began to feel the medication start to take effect and started to nod off.

Josh looked over at her and smiled. "I should go. You need your rest."

"Stay," Donna said and she took his hand. "We can snuggle and sleep in my room. I have a TV."

"Donna…"

"Please?"

He looked into her sad, watery eyes. "I'll sit with you for a minute, but I don't want to breath your air for long."

Josh helped Donna up off the couch and they walked into her bedroom. He helped Donna into bed, pulled the covers up around her. Donna immediately snuggled up to him.

"Still with me?" he asked as he flipped on the television and changed the channel to CNN.

"Mmmhmm," she nodded against his chest. "You're so good to me. Bringing me soup and staying with me…such a sweet boyfriend."

"Donna?" he looked down to find that the medication had taken over and Donna had drifted off to sleep. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about Donna calling him her boyfriend. He knew he felt something for her; that their arrangement had taken a different course than originally planned. Where it was going he wasn't sure.

He also wasn't as aware of time as he should have been. The week had been long for him as well. He didn't recall nodding off, but when he openned his eyes it was dark in the room and there was an infomerical on the TV. Josh painfully craned his neck to look at the clock on Donna's bed stand. It was nearly 5 a.m. Josh quietly and achingly crawled out of Donna's bed and went to the living room to retrieve his coat. 

He grabbed his cellphone and checked for messages. There were two. The first was left around 9 p.m. by Earl Brennan; Josh cursed softly under his breath for having forgotten they were supposed to meet at Old Ebbit's Friday night. The next message stung more deeply and set Josh's feet in motion out the door. 

*****************

_The White House_

_Northwest Lobby_

_Saturday, 7:23 a.m._

Sam Seaborn shook off the morning's chilly drizzle as he strided purposefully into the West Wing. Clutched under one arm was a sodden copy of the Washington Post--he had dropped it upon getting out of his car. In the other hand, he held tightly to his coffee. He didn't think he would be drinking it. There was a knot in his stomach.

It had formed just moments before he dropped his paper--his seconds after he parked his car. He had woken up late and scrambled to get to the office before 7:30. He hadn't caught the morning news in any form until after he ran into Poppytwist to get his coffee and grabbed a copy of the paper. The brief on the morning report was short and had little detail, but what little he heard made the mornings raw weather seem appropriate.

Ambassador Earl Brennan was dead.

Sam entered his office and shook the rain drops from his hair. Toby was no where to be seen though his computer was on--a violation of the computer security training they seemed to get warnings about every other week. Ginger pointed to the floor in response to Sam's questioning glance. He nodded. Toby was in the Mess getting his own coffee. Sam returned to his desk and spread the mushy newspaper out and began deciphering the blurred words. The story was small--having bare details known at press time: The ambassador was found dead in his Washington home just after midnight; authorities were investigating.

Sam sifted through the dispatches in his in-box and found nothing about Brennan. His e-mail was equally fruitless. That meant a trip to CJ. He squared his shoulders as he stood and took a deep breath. He had liked Brennan--more than most; the former congressman was a man of his word, even when his words were inflamatory and infuriating. He was a true crusader for the poor and downtrodden. He was an old-time Democrat and always thought there was room in the Party for one more voice; one more platform; one more chance.

Sam neared CJ's office. The door was partially closed, but the noise and light spilling into Carol's area told him she was already there. He pushed the door open and knocked lightly simultaneously. She was on the phone and waved him in.

"Okay," she said as Sam entered. "I've got Carol putting notes together. I'm briefing in 30 minutes."

Sam sat down and looked at his hands as CJ disconnected.

"Hell of a morning," he said.

"You've heard?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Do we know anything?"

"Not really," CJ said. "The FBI and NTSB are on the scene. There were 49 people and five crew aboard..."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"The plane," she said. "What are you talking about?"

"The Ambassador," Sam responded. "What plane?"

"Flight 2304--Washington to LA," CJ said. "It went down in Ohio roughly an hour ago."

"My god," Sam gasped sitting straighter in his chair. "Did it crash?"

CJ looked at him dumbfounded.

"I mean, did it put down or did it crash?" Sam clarified but her expression answered the question for him. "When you said 49 passengers and the crew, you meant...."

"No survivors," CJ said gravely as she stood. "Leo just told the President and they want me to tell Josh. Come with me; it'll be better this way."

"He's not going to want to hear this right now," Sam said. "I mean, with Brennan.... Is he even in yet? How is he?"

"He's been here for an hour or two," CJ said. "I asked him about Brennan and he said he didn't have anything to say. I know it's not a good day, but it's not going to get any better so the sooner I tell him about this the sooner we can all deal with it and start working. Come on. We have to tell him, Sam."

"Why are you in such a rush to tell him more bad news?" Sam asked as he reluctantly followed her.

"Secretary Cortez was on that plane," CJ said.


	6. Leap of Faith

**Title**: **HEAVEN AND HELL, _Leap of Faith _**(Chapter Six)  
**Authors: Enigmatic Ellie and Westwinger247**  
**Webpage: **  
**Notes**: _This is the sequel to THE QUEST. Thanks to those of you who followed us from one series to the next._

*****************

The cold and depressing weather that started the week dogged every day that followed the deaths of Secretary Cortez and Ambassador Brennan. The NTSB was giving the standard statements regarding speculation into the crash of the airliner; the autopsy on the United States Ambassador to Ireland revealed the charismatic politician's life was claimed by a heart attack. The White House threw together a team to draft short lists to replace the Commerce Secretary; State had a list prepared for the other vacancy.

There was protocol to be followed for both funerals. Fortunately, both were to take place within the District--though a very different locations. Brennan's would be a full-out affair with drum corps provided by the Ancient Order of Hibernians and a cadre of bagpipers to follow the funeral cortege across the bridge into Arlington where the Korean War veteran and statesman was to be buried. Cortez's would be at National Cathedral in a non-denominational service. There was no body to bury; it would be a memorial service more than a funeral.

The President was slated to attend both. There was no question about attending the service for Cortez. He had been a colleague of the President. There had be discussion about sending the Vice President to Brennan's ceremony but Bartlet vetoed that. He recalled vividly the contempt with which the pugnacious Irishman held the man from Texas. To send him would be an insult to the memory of a dedicated public servant. The compromise was struck. Though he had been requested to speak at the Cortez service, he respectfully declined. He also would not be attending the graveside service portion of Brennan's farewell. Both families had been understanding and accommodating--having the President there made for restrictions to appease the Secret Service. The services were to occur on consecutive days. Cortez on Friday; Brennan on Saturday.

Sam planned to attend both as well. He and Josh were the only White House Staffers who would do so. 

While pondering this on Wednesday evening, there was a rap on his door. Sam looked up to see a rare site that week: Josh. He had been sequestered in his office of his own accord or entrenched in the Oval Office staffing the President all week He disappeared at some point in the evenings without a word to anyone. Only Donna seemed to know where he was at any given moment--and Sam was still avoiding speaking to her privately in order not to give her any more mixed signals, fanning the flames of what he could see was her obvious desire for him.. 

"Hey," Sam said easily. 

"I... uh.... They asked me," he said uncomfortably as he entered the room.

"Who asked you what?"

"Earl Brennan's family," Josh said. "They asked me to... you know."

"They want you to give the eulogy?"

"Yeah," Josh said. "I tired to say no, but it came out '_sure_.'" 

"And you want some help?" Sam surmised.

"Yeah," Josh nodded.

"Gladly," Sam began. "I've written thousands of speeches and the hardest ones are the short ones where you sum up the life of someone who isn't even there to tell you whether you got it right or if he liked it. If you think about it, it's the most powerful statement you can make. It's the final verdict on a life: What did they leave behind? The sensitivity that you...."

"Sam," Josh interrupted tersely. "I knew the man for a long time. I liked him, and I respected him."

"So you know what you want to write," Sam nodded.

"Nothing," Josh said as he stood and turned to the door. "You're going to do it."

"I'm writing it for you?"

"Thanks," Josh nodded then left the office.

*****************

_St. Domoni's_

_Catholic Church_

_10:23 P.M._

The President sat thoughtfully near the front of the church. He had met the two surviving former-Mrs. Brennan's earlier that day. For being ex-wives of the same man, neither seemed to bear any grudge to the other. He thought perhaps that was because none of the unions had produced any children. The Ambassador had been predeceased by his first wife who died during child birth, something Bartlet had not known until speaking with Josh before the service began. 

Bartlet intimately familiar with the Catholic ceremony, but that did not mean he was comfortable there. He never enjoyed funerals. For all his appreciation for his religion, he did not like the premise of funerals. They did no justice to the deceased. They were always somber and remorseful. Not that there was a reason to celebrate and turn cartwheels, but it seemed an injustice that the final words on a man's life were so often delivered with a sigh. 

There was an attempt to bring some life to this ceremony. Around the altar were dozens of easels. On each were mounting boards bearing drawings penned by Brennan over the years--his own tribute and comment on a life spent in politics. Bartlet surveyed the artwork from his seat. There was obvious craftsmanship and skill in the pen. He could even recognize some of the caricatures. They were a eulogy in their own right.

Bartlet had never been fond of eulogies--giving them that is. The summation of a life in 500 words or less in front of a strive ridden crowd. He felt sympathy for anyone who had to give one. He had spoken briefly with Josh about what he would say. The younger man confessed readily that Sam was taking care of the task for him. Normally, Bartlet would have tried to discuss the matter with him more and perhaps talk him into penning his own words, but he knew not to push Josh right now. He had worked with him long enough to recognize his unconscious signals. The man needed some peace not a lecture. Besides, the President had great faith in Sam's abilities.

So, with these and many other thoughts, the President watched as Josh slowly approached the podium. His dark clothing mirrored his grave expression. He drew the speech from his inner breast pocket and smoothed the creases then paused.

"I... uh," Josh began then cleared his throat. "I have this amazing tribute on these pages. It's probably the most poetic and inspirational and honorable thing I could say today. Ambassador Brennan.... Earl would have been proud to hear it. It was written graciously by Sam Seaborn, and it's probably some of his best work; those of you who know Sam know that is saying something. But I'm not going to read it. Anyone who wants to read this flattering and eloquent tribute is welcomed to do so, but I can't. They're not my words."

Josh folded the pages in half and closed his eyes for a moment. 

"I've been trying to think of what I could say and I kept getting distracted by these," he began, gesturing to the brigade of easels stationed along the front of the church on either side of the flag draped coffin. "They're Earl's. He would sketch them on the back of memos or whatever was handy during meetings or flights or phone calls. There are more than 600 in the collection and nearly 100 are here today. You've heard a lot in the last few days about Earl's prowess as a powerful politician, but the truth is he was a better caricaturist."

A light and relaxed chuckle rippled through the church. Bartlet grinned respectfully. Only Josh to slip sarcasm tantamount to heresy into an unscripted eulogy.

"I can say that because I think--and so do people who actually know something about this stuff--they are remarkable work," Josh said. "I can also say that because when I worked for him, I had two primary tasks. The first was to keep him on top of what was happening so that he was either in the middle of a thing or 100 miles away from it as the situation dictated--or both, depending on the day. But the harder part of my job some days was the other task: to make sure he didn't leave any of his drawings behind. There was a two-fold reason for that. One, he wanted to keep them; he was his own collector--he claimed that made him unique and exclusive in the art community. The other reason was simple: Some of them would have gotten him into more trouble than I could handle."

Again the laughter punctuated the event. Many were nodding, whispering short remembrances to whoever was seated beside them--affirming the speaker's words. 

"There is a lot of history in these sketches," Josh said. "They're journal entries depicting more than a quarter of a century of public service and the events that took place during that time. You may have heard they are going to be on exhibit at the Smithsonian for several weeks. Earl had made the offer when he relinquished his congressional seat last year. They accepted but could not schedule the showing until later this spring. I think there are probably a few people here today who, like me, received the constant updates over e-mail from him--the moment-by-moment, inch-by-inch progression from his blue portfolio to what he blushingly called his first showing.

"I told him I didn't think I would go to the opening," Josh continued. "He tried ordering me then remembered I didn't work for him any longer. He tried cajoling me and when that failed, he promptly told me I was a sorry excuse for an Irishman. Informing him I'm Jewish not Irish didn't change the course of the scolding, so I ended up admitting that I was indeed a sorry excuse for an Irishman. I don't know why I didn't want to go; maybe I'm not much of an art lover. Maybe I didn't want to see the one he drew of me. He titled that one: _My Shield And My Sword_. So I was, I guess. But he was more than my boss, more than my job. Earl Brennan was more than one of my mentors. That's why I had Sam write something for me--and it was surely better than what I have said. Because I didn't want to do this--write this eulogy and deliver it. That made it too real that he was gone. I have no recollection of a life in politics when he wasn't be buttonholing me in a hallway to drop some priceless piece of information in my lap; when he wasn't calling me to suggest some outlandish yet perfectly workable solution to a political conundrum; when he wasn't the first person to stand up and say what needed to be said--damn the political consequences. That's who he was in his working life. And for all those things that he was professionally--more things than I could list here today--he was something more than a devoted servant to the people. That's why I didn't want to do this, because I think the world has lost a rare breed: a peaceful warrior. I find it hard to believe that he's done and that I have to say goodbye because for all the things he was, the most important thing to me is that he was my friend."

Josh walked slowly off the altar. He looked briefly at the President and received a scant nod. It was the only clue he had that he was finished speaking; he took his seat and could not recall a single word he had said. Before he could contemplate it further, the priest signalled for the congregation to stand. Soon after, the wail of the bagpipes filled the church as the ceremony entered its next phase. The end phase. The burial. 

*****************

_Arlington National Cemetery _

_11:28 a.m._

Sam and Josh walked slowly away from the grave side service--the smell of gun powder from the honor guard was think in the air and their ears were still ringing from the reports that snapped from the rifles. Both had seen Marilyn at the service, accompanying one of the Ambassador's nephews. They were not surprised to see her approach them as they walked along the path back toward the cars. 

"It was a wonderful service," she said simply. "You did well, Josh."

"Yeah, Toby should look over his shoulder," Josh commented. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Frank is one of the team's doctors," she explained, gesturing to the departing nephew. "He and I are close. He talks about his uncle all the time. The man will certainly be missed." 

"He certainly was one of a kind," Sam replied. 

Marilyn nodded then looked at Josh. He was standing next to Sam, with his hands shoved into his pockets. She could tell that while his face was turned towards her, his eyes were staring over her shoulder out into the vast see of white headstones that surrounded Arlington from behind his sunglasses.

"Sam, would you excuse us?" Marilyn said as she walked over to Josh, linking arms with him. "I need to talk with Mr. Chatty for a minute."

"No problem," he replied. "Josh, I'll catch up with you later."

"Walk with me for a minute," she said.

"I was going home," he said unnecessarily. "I have things to do and I need to go to the office later."

"I just want to talk to you for a moment," she said soothingly and led him away from the mourners.

The pair walked in silence for a while. The trees were beginning to show their greenery with the twittering of birds breaking the silence momentarily. They walked for another minute up a hill and came upon the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. As they approached the site, the soldiers were beginning the traditional changing of the guards. Dozens of tourists crowded the marble steps to take pictures and watch the protocol. Marilyn and Josh stood in silence as they watched the procession. Several minutes later, Marilyn ushered Josh around to the back of the memorial to the white marble amphitheater. She ushered him to a nearby bench and they sat down.

"I love DC in the spring," Marilyn said softly. "Today is such a beautiful day." 

"If you call burying an irreplacable man a beautiful day, then I prefer thunderstorms."

"Josh," she chided him. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Whatever," he shrugged. "What did you want? I've got a job that requires attention."

"Is everything okay?" Marilyn asked as she touched his shoulder.

"Did Sam leave?" Josh asked, rather than answer her question.

"I don't know," she said. "Looks like we ditched him again."

"Again?"

"The night of Congressman Schiff's retirement party," she reminded him. "Two days after you apologized on the Capitol steps for taking my head off."

"I never apologized," Josh corrected. "I was just merely telling you to not take what I said personally."

"Oh, of course," Marilyn mocked. "Because Joshua Lyman is never wrong."

"I've never said that," he countered. "What party are you talking about? I don't remember."

"Well," Marilyn began, "Schiff was retiring—for the second time—and my guy went to make peace with the Ways and Means Chairman to could get a committee appointment. I was still new and wherever he went, I had to go, too."

"Kind of like the lambs heading towards the slaughter."

"Josh."

"McAllister was an idiot," he said, recalling her congressman; however, the stern look on her face told him there was to be no commentary during her story. "Sorry."

"Anyway," she continued, "I spotted Sam over by the bar. He waved me over and said that he wanted to introduce me to someone I needed to know to get things done."

"And that was me, of course," he smirked.

"Well, you were there," she teased. "But I was talking about Eric Ingram from Congressman Martinez's office."

"Naturally," Josh shook his head.

"I'm glad you were there, though," Marilyn said as she gazed at the wondrous site in front of her. "For the two years I worked for McAllister, you were there for me when I needed someone."

"So that's why nothing ever came of you and me?" he asked simply. "Because I was there for you?"

"No, I knew loved me, but I also knew you were never in love with me," she replied frankly. "The difference was subtle but immense at the same time. We just weren't right for each other, and we both knew it. I can count on one hand the number of times where we actually went out. But, other times, we had… I got a great friend out of the deal, and for that, I don't know how to thank you."

"You don't," Josh replied. "Friends are there for a reason."

"Then, as a friend," Marilyn continued. "Can I make an observation?"

"What?"

"I noticed that Donna wasn't with you," she ventured. "I assumed that you would want somebody to be with you at this time."

"Donna's my _assistant_," Josh said in a loud whisper, with a twinge of defensiveness. "Nothing more."

Marilyn nodded her agreement and the pair returned to the road where a few cars remained parked. Most of the mourners had left the gravesite, save some distant relatives of Earl's. Josh's ride had also abandoned him.

"Can I offer you a ride back?" Marilyn offered.

"Thanks."

Josh and Marilyn entered her Suburban and began the journey back to Josh's apartment in Georgetown. Marilyn glanced at the tense figure in the passenger seat.

"Are you going to be okay alone?" Marilyn offered. "I can stay if you…"

"No," Josh snapped. "I don't need you; I don't need Donna; I don't need anyone. What I need is for people to stop acting like I'm going to fall apart. I'm not some feeble, mentally infirm idiot who needs to be coddled every time something goes wrong in the world. All week, that's all I got at the office."

"People worry about those they care for," she said.

"People should worry about more important things," he snapped. "I'm fine, but I'm going to lose my mind if everyone doesn't stop treating me like I'm not!"

"'Cause screaming at me for no good reasons is very rational way to plead your case," Marilyn said. "Answer me something: Do you enjoy suffering?"

"Don't psycho-analyze me," he said.

"I just think you'd feel better if you talked to someone," she insisted. "If not Donna then…."

"Enough with the Donna talk," he cut her off. "I'm fine. I'm tired and I just gave a eulogy; I don't think it's respectful to turn cartwheels afterward. So leave me alone. And for the last time, Donna is my assistant--that's all. Nothing more. End of story"

"Okay," she sighed as she pulled the car to a stop in front of his apartment. "I can negotiate with a pompous, egotistical 23-year-old second baseman whose agent thinks he's worth twenty-five million dollars a year, when in reality, he can barely throw the ball to first base and therefore he's worth the League minimum. But, I can't get through to you. Your wall of emotion is tougher to tear down than the Berlin Wall."

"Leave the poetic prose to SJ and her stupid stories," Josh turned to face her. "I got a note from her yesterday offering me the same sappy sympathy you're doling out and insinuating that for some reason she felt better knowing I had Donna around. Well, I do have her around. She types for me; she does research and pretty much anything I order her to do. Order. That's the key word there. She works for me. There is nothing more between us. You and your partner in crime should get your pathetic ideas about my assistant and me idea out of your heads. SJ, I understand: She's a mildly insane fiction writer and delusions are part of her trade. But you? I always figured you for someone with more common sense and a better grasp on reality. Now, you're insinuating that...."

"Josh, you care for..." Marilyn offered as he groped for a word. 

"She is my employee," Josh argued hotly. "You've got this idea that we're some couple from a book that are supposed to get together by the end of the second act, like Romeo and Juliet. You want the truth? Yeah, I'm sleeping with my assistant. There. The big secret. Know why it's a secret? Because it's a bad idea and it's not going to amount to anything. It was a mistake. It's not going to last so you might want to rethink this great romance you suspect we have. Take a lesson from literature: Romeo and Juliet committed suicide at the end. So much for happily-ever-after."

"Fine," Marilyn sighed as unlocked the doors. "You're such a ray of sunshine when you're like this. You are your own curse, you know that?"

"That's for the ride, Dr. Phil," Josh snapped as he shut the door.

Josh quietly ascended the stairs of his apartment. All he wanted to do was be alone. The sounds of the honor guard's gun fire still echoed in his ears. The smell of the creosote from the weapons also remained along with the lingering thoughts of Brennan. For all he had done in his life, and there was plenty, Josh knew the man considered himself a failure deep in his core. It stemmed from a circumstance beyond his control 40 years earlier: the death of his first wife and their unborn child. He spoke of it with Josh several times over the years and it was the man's only true regret in life. Josh knew that kind of regret. He believed Brennan knew that and was probably the reason he had confessed those thoughts Josh. 

_We weren't that different,_ Josh thought as he climbed the stairs towards his apartment. _Earl was a political savant and a personal Armageddon--just like me. In the end, I guess the best thing you can do is limit the casualities. _

Josh reached his door and unlocked it, hoping to find quiet from his thoughts and the chaos of the day. 

That hope was short-lived. He knew instantly that he wasn't alone. 

"What are you doing here?" Josh asked sharply as he spied Donna sitting on the couch. 

"It's Saturday," she replied. 

"So?" 

"I'm here every Saturday during the hours we're not in the office," Donna looked at his face to try and gauge his mood. "It's our time." 

"I don't feel like 'having time' today," Josh said shortly as he tossed his overcoat on a chair. "Go away." 

"I see," Donna said quietly. "How are you holding up?" 

Josh took a seat on the couch, away from Donna. "I'm fine." 

"Can I get you something to drink?" she offered, touching his arm. It was immediately shrugged off. 

"I said I'm fine," he repeated quickly. "If I was thirsty, I would have said so." 

Donna looked at him. "Don't snap at me; I was just asking." 

Josh ran a hand through his hair and gazed out the window. "I have a headache so leave me alone." 

Donna sighed and rose from the couch. She went into the kitchen and grabbed aspirin and a glass of water and returned to the living room. 

"Here, take these," Donna said handing him the medicine and placing the glass on the coffee table. 

"Why?" 

"You said you have a headache," she reminded him. "These will help." 

Josh snatched the aspirin from her hands and threw them across the room. He picked up the glass from the coffee table and quickly slammed it back down. "No, they won't. Would you stop hovering?!" 

Donna slowly stepped away from him, shocked. "I… I'm sorry. I didn't think I was hovering." 

"Well you are," Josh barked. "You came into my apartment – _uninvited_ – and you won't leave me alone. That falls into the hovering category." 

"I'm just trying to make sure you're okay," Donna reassured him. "I know the funeral must've taken a lot out of you." 

Josh chuckled dryly. "It didn't. Really. I can handle it. I've been to a few of these in my life – for people I cared a hell of a lot more for than Earl Brennan." 

"Earl meant a lot to you," Donna reminded him. "Sam said…" 

"Oh, yeah; there's an expert on me," he scoffed. "Earl was a job. That's all." 

Donna looked at him caringly. "Josh, I watched the funeral on C-SPAN. I heard what you said…" 

"I don't remember what I said," he cut her off. "I said what I was supposed to say." 

"What has gotten into you?" Donna asked, sitting on the coffee table. 

"Nothing," he replied. "Is it against the law to want to be left alone? No, it's not! And I know this because I have a law degree and I help make laws. So maybe you could do me a favor for _once_ and stop playing amateur psychologist!" 

"I'm just trying to help you," she implored. "Josh, talk to me." 

"Is that an order?" he asked hotly. 

"No, I just thought…" 

"What was the occasion?" 

Donna stared at him. "Josh…" 

"I don't need you," he said through clenched teeth. "I can take care of myself. I know what's best for me. If I need to talk, I will – to whomever I choose. Got that?!" 

"Loud and clear," Donna replied shortly. She rose from the table and went to a chair by the window. Donna picked up her _Vogue_ magazine and began to flip through it. 

Josh stared at her. "What…what are you doing?" 

"I'm sitting here reading a magazine," she answered simply. 

"Can't you find a better place?" he snapped. "I believe I just told you I want to be alone." 

Donna threw the magazine on the ground. "Fine. You can sit here and sulk like a three-year-old." 

Josh watch as Donna crossed in front of him and headed to his bedroom. "Changing rooms doesn't… Never mind. Let me put it in terms your mind can grasp: Get out!!" 

"What?" she gasped, whirling around to face him. 

"Were those two words too complicated?" 

Donna's jaw dropped and she sighed. "You're stressed, I know. And you're going to snap out of this in a few minutes and then you're going to…" 

Josh closed his eyes momentarily. "Okay, attempt to listen to me right now. It's a simple request…No, now it's an order. Get out. Out of that room, out of the apartment, out of my life! Just do whatever it is you have to do to leave me alone!" 

"You don't mean that," she said softly. "Last night, you said…" 

"Last night is over," Josh yelled. "And whatever I said, I didn't mean or else I would know what you were talking about right now." 

"What are you trying to say?" 

"Get out!" he said firmly. "Leave me alone. How much more clearly can I be?" 

Donna carefully made her way towards him. "Josh, you're in a really back place right now. Maybe a nice long shower will help. I'll go and pick us up some Chinese and then we'll see where we…" 

"Donna, stop." 

"I think you should call...," Donna said. 

"No!" Josh snapped. "I know what you're going to say and the answer is no. I do not need to talk to Stanley any more than I need you to take care of me. I am fine. I will be better than fine if you will just leave me alone." 

"Josh…" 

"You're speaking, not listening. Leave. Now." 

Donna looked at him. "What?" 

"Do you need visual aides?" Josh fumed, his body quivering with rage. "That is a door. You open it and pass through it. Then you _go_…anywhere else but here." 

"You don't…" she choked, tears beginning to form. "You don't mean that. You can't." 

"Spare me the tears, Donna," he said. "I mean whatever I want to mean. I don't know what you think you mean to me or what you think is going on between us, but let me help clarify things. Nothing. There's _nothing_ between us. That was the deal from the beginning. Remember?" 

Donna tucked her hair behind her ears and steeled herself. "So all you think of me is some convenient woman who's here to satisfy you? Is that what I mean to you after all these months? My father's funeral; you flying halfway across the country to see me…that was what? Some spectacular play to get me back into your bed?" 

"Why are you talking about your father?" he asked. "That has nothing to do with this." 

"You flew all the way to…" 

"That was then," Josh stated simply. "I felt sorry for you – that's all. Look, I don't know what you think is between us, but don't overstate your importance to me." 

"I have no importance to you?" she gasped. "You don't value my work…or me?" 

"I am the only person in the room capable of listening," Josh said aloud to himself as he grabbed his coat. "Fine. Let me demonstrate the elementary request I have been making of you for the last ten minutes. I am leaving. Do the same – _soon_. I want you gone by the time I return." 

"Okay," she conceded. "I'll see you tomorrow, when you've come back to reality." 

"Oh no!" he shook his head. "No, no, no. No, you won't. Not unless you are going to be at the office and intend to work – which entails listening to and following directions – you will not be seeing me tomorrow." 

"I don't understand where all this is coming from…" 

"Me!" Josh yelled. "It's coming from me! See, this is me saying go away! Leave me alone! Get out!" 

Donna shook her head. "I don't believe that. That's not you." 

"How the hell would you know?" he asked. "You live in this naïve little fantasy world." 

"I would _know_," she countered, "because I've practically spent every waking moment by your side for the past five years. I know when you're happy; I know when you're upset; I know when some Congressman wants to strangle you and you him; I know more about you than you do at times. I _care_ about you, Josh." 

"Well stop," Josh demanded. "I don't want you to care about me!" 

"No," Donna argued. "I'll care about you if I want to." 

"You know what your problem is," he snapped, "you're desperate to fill this void you think is in your life, but it's actually you just feeing inadequate. You do it _every time_ a guy looks at you for longer than ten seconds. You decide he's the one for you; you start thinking about a future that just isn't going to happen; you're too willfully blind to see and hear the truth when it stands in front of you and says 'You mean nothing to me; it's over; get out!'" 

"Then why the…" Donna sighed. "You selfish son-of-...." 

"Hey, this is who I am," Josh snarled. "Did you think I was your Prince Charming?" 

"The Convention…Vermont…the Inauguration…What was all that to you?" 

"It's called sex, Donna," he explained. "Causal sex, no commitment – that was the deal, remember? You suggested it." 

"I don't know if you realize it, but you're being cruel, Josh?" she explained. "This is not you, Josh. What's going on? I want you to talk to me." 

Josh made his way to the door and opened it. "Okay, what I want is for you to leave me alone. Be gone by the time I get back." 

"Josh, don't do this," she begged. 

"It's done," he declared. "Donna, look at me. This thing is over. It ends now; get out. I don't want you coming here again." 

"No," Donna countered. "I think I have a vote in this. I'm in the relationship, too." 

"There is no relationship," Josh reiterated. "Don't you get it? I've decided. There is nothing more than boss and employee. Nothing more. You want to start problems; we'll have lawyers settle it." 

"Lawyers? Josh!" 

"I'll be back in one hour," Josh stated. "Remove yourself and any of your junk you keep leaving here." 

Donna carefully placed her hands on his shoulders. "Please, stay here. We can rationally discuss this…" 

"Don't touch me," Josh ordered, throwing her hands off him. "Don't try to coddle me. And don't tell me I'm not being rational. This is probably the most rational thing I've done in months. This is for the best. Trust me." 

"No, I won't trust you--not right now--you're being completely irrational and you're scaring me," she replied. "I care about you – deeply. And I know you care about me or we wouldn't have lasted – working or otherwise." 

Josh shook his head. "You really do have your own reality. Welcome to the real world. I don't care about you, Donna. I never have. Not really. You mean nothing to me outside of your professional capacity." 

"What have I done to deserve this?" 

"You've overstated your welcome!" he hissed. "Just get out!" Josh didn't look at her as he left, slamming the door. 

Donna closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself as tightly as she could. She stood there - body shaking, lips trembling, tears streaming down her face. Her heart was torn out by someone she thought cared for her; her spirit was torn to shreds; her faith in hope shattered. 

Donna took a deep breath to calm herself. She wiped her eyes and went to work. Donna tore into Josh's bedroom and picked up her duffle bag. She unzipped it and removed Josh's Yale sweatshirt and put it on his bed, along with a few other articles of his clothing. She went to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer – a drawer that had come to be hers in recent weeks. She removed its contents and put them in her bag. 

Donna's next stop was the bathroom. She opened the cabinet and removed all traces of her presence. She closed the cabinet and took stock of her face in the mirror. A once happy and content look appeared there merely hours ago. Now, Donna couldn't recognize the reflection staring back at her. She had experienced what she thought to be heartache before, but this look was completely new. Her world was over. 

Donna dropped her items into the duffle bag, zipped it and placed it over her shoulder. She slowly walked down the hall and into the living room. Donna looked around the room, which she had seen more times than her own. She wiped one last tear from her eye, tossed the key on the coffee table and left the apartment. 

****************  


****Josh returned to his apartment, several hours later than planned. He had intended to go to the office, but he didn't make it there. He found himself driving away from the White House and away from the District. He drove south through Virginia. He wasn't sure where he had been by the time he returned to Georgetown. He knew only that the light had faded from the sky and with it his energy and anger. 

But he had done the right thing. Letting Donna go. It was the right thing. The proper thing. The safe thing. He was saving her from certain heartache or (most likely) something worse. They would just go back to being.... whatever they were before they were something other than... whatever they were. His feelings for Donna, and he was never certain what they were, had been convoluted from the start. It would be better this way. Now, he could focus only on the job and not be distracted by her or her ways or her personal life or her perfume or... 

Josh shook his head as he parked his car. Even in the car when reaffirming his decision to end their after-hours relatio.... 

_No, it wasn't a relationship. It was an arrangement. When ending the ethically questionable arrangement, I made a sound and professional choice to behave the way I should have all along. And if I was looking for proof that the whole thing was a bad idea and has been distracting me--which I'm not because I don't need to be convinced--but if I did, I wouldn't have to look any further than the fact that just thinking about her perfume nearly just.... you know..... . _

_ It's kind of like lilacs or jasmine_, he nodded, recalling the scent vividly. 

_See! There. Right there. I did it again. This is why it was a bad idea._

Convincing himself it had been a mistake and a bad idea was the next item on his agenda for the weekend. He had 24 hours to rid himself of this demon. The Donna demon. 

_No, she's not evil. Don't name it. That makes it sound bigger and more important than it was. It was a thing. That's all. Just a thing. A distracting and ill thought out thing. A fleeting thing. Destined to failure. _

Josh opened the door and was greeted with silence. He gazed around the living room, his eyes falling upon the coffee table and Donna's key ring. She had made a big production of putting her key to his apartment--one she'd had for years before their arrangement anyway--on a Vermont key chain, a souvenir that she had picked up at the cabin when they made their agreement. 

Josh left the key where it was. He felt weary and oddly cold. He checked the thermostat. It read an even 68 degrees yet he shivered. The silence in the apartment grew. It, along with the chill, made him feel dizzy. Rather than fight the feeling, Josh sat on the couch. He had no urge to turn on the TV. He just wanted to remain still and wait for the world to set itself right. 

He opened his eyes to bright light streaming into the room. Josh spied the clock on the wall. It said 7:45 a.m. 

It was Sunday. 

Josh rose and walked toward his bedroom. It had been a long time since he had slept this late on a Sunday. Normally, Donna would have been in the kitchen vowing not to bring him coffee by... 

He shook his head. It would get better, he told himself. It had to. 

Josh entered his room and immediately noticed a pile of clothing on the bed; a pile that he hadn't seen in a long time. He stared at it. She had had the nerve to fold it all neatly. Without a thought, he grabbed the armful of clothes and threw them on the floor. As he did so, the scent caught him. 

It was sweet and flowery and filled the fibers of the clothes. As he ran his hands over his face to regain his composure, he noticed the open, empty dresser drawer. Josh hadn't used that drawer in quite a while--it haveing been appropriated by her. The emptiness of it was a glaring reminder that it wouldn't be used again, at least by her. He shoved it closed with his foot as he scowled and went to take a hot shower. 

He returned to dress and found her scent was no longer in the room. He nodded gratefully at that. He dressed without incident and prepared to leave for the office. He sat on the bed to tie his shoes when a shimmering fabric caught his eye. The edge of it peaked out from under one of the pillows. Josh pulled the garment out to reveal Donna's gown. The silky fabric poured through his fingers. Again, her scent filled his senses and made his throat tighten. With a slight tremor in his hands, he folded the garment and placed it in the empty drawer in his dresser, closing the drawer softly and completely this time. 

***************** 

The week began as most weeks do--with a Monday. The day was long and arduous. The grind was even more noticable because Donna was there, looking sullen but professional and not mentioning a word of.... well, anything. The week was slated to be slow for Josh. The a majority of new items were to be handled primarily by Toby and Sam, since Josh was nearing his pre-approved vacation. One week set aside for golf on Hilton Head with friends from law school. At first, Josh was certain just the thought of vacation would be what got him through the week, but that idea was short-lived. He had feared difficult conversations with Donna, and at least one approach to discuss things again. 

But it never happened. She was at all times polite, professional and courteous. She completed her tasks with no discussion and did not bring any other issues to his attention in person. Most questions were jotted down for him on post-it notes attached to files he needed--complete with overly near block printing to avoid the necessity of asking for clarification. She was frequently away from her desk when he was in his office and in need of something from her directly. She was off photocopying or running files elsewhere or doing research in another area. Josh began using the post-it note express for requests. 

So the week dragged on. The idea of relaxing and playing golf grew dreadful to him as he took a glace on Donna's computer screen Wednesday morning. She was updating her resume. 

Josh left late that night, as he did most nights that week. The quiet in his apartment was suffocating. And as he returned home, reluctantly, in the wee hours of each morning, he was greeted by the same site: the key chain sitting on the coffee table precisely Donna left it. Josh found himself staring at it as he fell asleep each night. Sleeping in his bedroom was not an option yet. Whenever he tried to rest there, the tiniest hint of her perfume remained and brought on stifling feelings that made it difficult to breathe. 

*****************

_Friday, 4:54 p.m._

_Josh's Office_

The sky rumbled in the distance as the sun disappeared. The White House staff was scurrying to complete the work week. Though to leave at five o'clock was a rare luxury, the possibility was always in the minds of support staff. With still two hours to go before that much anticipated hour, the energy in the office was still in high gear--except for the individual in the Deputy Chief of Staff's Office.

Josh was one of the few who could conceivably leave the building--technically speaking, he was no longer at the office despite the fact he was sitting at his desk. According to the payroll calendar, he was on vacation for the next week. He was scheduled to leave the next morning for the long anticipated golf excursion with several law school friends.

But Josh was no longer eager to go. In fact, he had no urge to leave his darkened office at all. He had done so rarely over the previous week, stopping only at his apartment briefly between the hours of 3 a.m. and 6 a.m. for fitful naps on the couch and a quick shower. Eating was something he kept forgetting to do--noticing the oversight only when he found himself on the verge of passing out. CJ and Sam were concerned and asking questions; Toby was even noticing the change, going so far as to recommend an hour earlier that Josh get head start on his vacation.

But Josh saw no need. A vacation would merely prolong the inevitable.

He was dying. He was certain of it. It was a perfectly logical explanation. What was irrational was the reason: Donnatella Moss. She was gone.

Sure, she came into the office. She worked at her desk. She did research, made phone calls, complied reports. Then she left.

She did it every day. Her work was perfect; timely and organized and without fault. Her demeanor was professional at all times. And it was killing her boss.

There was no good morning--and certainly no good night (either in word or gesture, inside the office or away from it). She had cut Josh out of her personal life, and the void it left in him was like an icy tumor, the numbness spreading throughout his body. It was swallowing him up, and there was not a thing he could do to stop it.

On top of this dismal outlook, Leo had dropped in Josh's lap the House Education Committee report on elementary education spending. He wanted an analysis and assessment of how the White House's newly crafted literacy initiative would be received when the bill hit the floor, and he wanted it done before Monday. The task was daunting for one person; impractical to competently complete if that person was scheduled to take vacation two hours after the duty was assigned; and impossible to tackle if the only thing Josh could think of when he looked at the raw numbers was the naieve yet hopeful expression of his assistant who sat on the floor of his office a year and a half earlier and generated the idea that sparked the bill in question.

It was Donna's idea that served as the seed for the new education plan. It was her read of the situation and her understanding of a child's basic needs that was later forged into a multi-million dollar spending plan the that President made one of the focuses of his campaign. But all Josh could think of was the look in those blue eyes when he told her the President liked her thinking. It was the way she had looked at him that Josh could not shake. That was gone now. Gone forever.

"Good afternoon," President Bartlet said as he peered into Josh's office.

"Mr. President," Josh answered listlessly and stood on weary legs. "I'm not finished with the findings yet. Leo dropped them by, but I'm.... It's slow going."

Bartlet regarded him with a thoughtful gaze. He looked toward Donna's empty desk and nodded. His end of the office grapevine was more accurate than most others. Charlie was a wondrous fountain of information. The President's Personal Aide was practically a part of the furniture in the halls as his discretion was legendary. He kept the Commander-in-Chief up to date on many things, and only some of them were directly related to the official functions of the staff. For that reason, the President was one of the few who was aware of the after-hours relationship between the Deputy Chief of Staff and his assistant. So long as their work did not suffer, Bartlet was unconcerned. However, recently, he had noticed a change in Josh that was troublesome.

"I thought you were on vacation," Bartlet remarked.

"And miss all this fun?" Josh said though it was more of a sigh.

"Yeah," Bartlet nodded then jerked his head to the side. "Walk with me."

Josh slowly followed. The Secret Service detail hung back appropriately as the two meandered through the halls and down the stairs toward the lower level.

"Do you need anything, sir?" Josh asked.

"I'm looking for the tunnel," Bartlet said drawing a folded piece of paper from the breast pocket of his jacket.

"The tunnel?"

"I have half an hour that wasn't budgeted out," Bartlet said quickly. "I'll use it as I please."

"Sure, why not," Josh remarked. "Sir, have you asked where it is? Wouldn't that make this easier?"

"No," Bartlet said studying his paper and making a small check mark on it. "I'm a capable man. I kind of figured that meant I could find it on my own."

"Right, and so far?"

"I've been busy," the President answered.

"Okay," Josh shrugged. "Is that a map?"

"It's a kind of a map."

"You've been mapping where you've looked," Josh surmised. "For four years now?"

"I'm learning the entire geography of the world I inhabit during much of my working day," Bartlet answered.

"Why didn't you just look at the Secret Service blueprints?"

"Taking the easy way out is not the way to learn anything, Josh," Bartlet said as they turned a corner and walked east. "Besides, none of the drawings I saw showed any tunnel."

Josh shook his head and sighed. The stroll was a waste of time, but he found it less depressing than sitting in the dark feeling his insides slowly dying while slogging through skewed facts from a contentious congressional committee.

"Do you ever stop and wonder about the history of these walls?" Bartlet asked as they paused in a hallway Josh wasn't sure he'd ever been in before. "The amazing stories that have transpired in these very corridors are the patches that form the quilt of our heritage."

"That tunnel has got to be around here some place," Josh said under his breath while looking down the hall for a place to hide.

"Josh, you don't mind my informative sessions half as much as you pretend," Bartlet said confidently.

"That's one theory."

"Your mother told me your father was quite the history buff," Bartlet continued. "She said you listened to every word with rapt attention in his trivia divulgences."

"He wasn't a perfect man, just a good one," Josh replied.

"Like father like son."

"I wish," Josh sighed and caught the President's questioning gaze. "Well, it's a matter of opinion, sir."

"Yes, I suppose it is," Bartlet said. "And mine isn't the one you care about most right now."

"I always respect and value your opinion, Mr. President."

"Josh, how did you come so far in politics being such a terrible liar?"

"Brains, talent and good looks," Josh replied with a shrug.

"Humble to a fault," Bartlet remarked. "You know, when Leo first brought you to work for me, I thought he was crazy. I didn't think you knew enough about politics to spell the word without help. But Leo was adamant. Listen to this guy, Leo said. I trusted him. I had faith in his judgment. But faith is not an easy thing to come by. Take Soren Kirkegaard, for example."

"Well, of course," Josh said as he nodded, trying to sidestep another landmine conversation. "That's obvious."

"Is it?" Bartlet inquired. "Josh, you might know who he was, but I'll bet the entire Democratic Party Treasury that you haven't a clue what I'm talking about."

"Normally, that's a safe bet," Josh said. "But I'm not sure you're allowed to wager a bank account that isn't yours, Mr. President."

"Kirkegaard was a philosopher," Bartlet continued undeterred. "He fell in love with a woman who cared for him as well. But, being a philosopher, love didn't sit well with him. He had to tinker with the concept to see how the thing worked. He wondered how anyone in good conscience could devote his life to another person. You see, he knew that people change a little bit in a little way every day. He reasoned that over time those changes would add up. Ten years down the road, he might discover he was an entirely different person from when he pledged his heart to this woman. Conversely, she too would change. He would wake up one day and realize she was a stranger. It seemed to be an unsolvable problem until he realized the answer: faith. A leap of faith in himself and in her was what would bridge that chasm. It's not an easy thing, I assure you. Believing in something--truly believing in an idea, another person, yourself--it's the hardest thing you might ever do."

"Didn't he commit suicide?"

"No," Bartlet sighed in a testy fashion. "He got his heartbroken, because it took him too long to figure out what he wanted. By the time he was ready for his leap, she had found someone else."

"Thank you," Josh said flatly. "I feel enriched."

"No," the President said sternly. "No, you don't get off that easily, Josh. I tried to be subtle, but the nuances were lost on you because either you weren't truly listening or this thing has gone so deep into you that you can't listen. I'm telling you this as one man to another: Figure out what it is you want. I'm not saying you need to make sweeping, life altering changes. You just need to decide what's important to you and live your life accordingly."

"Mr. President, really I..."

"Josh, do you really think I don't know what I'm talking about?" Bartlet said. "I'm aware of what's been going on. I have no opinion on the situation except this: You're the damn fool I thought you were initially if you let this thing beat you because you're afraid of it."

Josh looked down, unable to meet the man's eyes. He couldn't have this conversation with himself. Having it with the President was not going to be any more successful. As for Donna.... well lost causes were something Josh knew well, like disappointment and heartbreak.

"It's too late to do anything," Josh confessed.

"How can you be sure?"

"She's already gone."

"I think you're wrong," Bartlet said. "Her hand might be on the door knob, but I don't believe she's left. I know for certain that now is not the time to sit back. You fight tooth and nail for every vote on every piece of legislation we push. Why is it when something comes this close to you that you don't even show up for the battle? Now, that might be a clue as to what you want. Or it might not. Only you know, Josh. Make up your mind about what's most important. There's nothing wrong with deciding you don't need anything more in your life than you have now. But be sure because second chances are rare, and frankly, you've had more than your fair share for one life time."

Josh lifted his eyes and met the Bartlet's gaze. There were no further answers to be found. Josh shook his head, unsure what he should do or think. This was not familiar territory for him.

"Go home, Josh," the president said.

"I can't," Josh said. "Leo's got me on the education thing."

"It can wait another day," Bartlet said. "Go home. Get something to eat; sleep; think. You're no good to us like this."

"Mr. President, thanks for your concern but...."

"Go home," Bartlet said again. "That's an order from you Commander-in-Chief."

*****************

_Georgetown_

_Josh's Apartment_

_6 p.m._

Josh sat on his couch, listening to the rain that was just beginning to spatter on the windows. He had arrived home just moments earlier and began sifting through his neglected stack of mail. He opened an unexpected 8 x 10 envelope from his mother to find two items. One was a short note from her stating she was sending this to him after finding it the remaining boxes she was sorting through from her former home. The item she was referring to was a second envelope, still sealed, bearing Josh's name. He stared at the handwriting on it, running his thumb over the pen strokes. It had been years since he had seen the writing yet he knew in an instant to whom it belonged.

The simple, white envelope--emblazoned with the gilded name and address of Dubois & Plimpton--was sealed and, as expected, a signature was scrawled across the flap. That's how the letters were always sealed--a force of habit for someone who worked with legal and confidential papers all of his life. Seeing that also brought a sense of security to this moment for Josh. Whatever was inside had not been seen by anyone else since the moment Noah Lyman closed the envelope years earlier.

Josh was reluctant to tear into it. He held in his hands the final communication he would ever have with his father. That it was coming several years after the man died was surreal. That it arrived at this specific time was unsettling.

On some instant level, he feared what it might contain. He was not ready to read a castigation from the man he revered most. It was unlikely his father had penned scathing words to him--the man had rarely found fault with anything Josh did--but probability in personal matters was something Josh learned not to place stock in years earlier.

_ And why now_, Josh wondered. Of all the times his mother could have found this, why did it suddenly appear now?

The explanation in her letter was both clear and plausible. She was cleaning out boxes and papers from his father's office. He had been a partner at the law firm. When he died, they took care of his files and cleared out his office. Lois, his secretary of 20 years, had packed everything else into boxes and them sent home; some of those boxes had moved--unopenned--to Florida after the house in Westport was sold. Josh had gone through many of those boxes after the memorial service but had not found the letter. Granted, at the time, he was looking for any additional legal documents his mother would need to settle the estate. It was possible Josh had missed the letter. In fact--in light of its existence-- that was the most logical explanation.

Josh continued to stare at the envelope. It was unclear when the letter was written. His father had been with the firm when Josh was born and had worked there right up to the week he died.

Josh lay the envelope on the coffee table and looked at it. It stared back at him.

"You mock me with your silence," he said then paused. "When did I start talking to inanimate objects? Better question: When did I start talking to myself?"

Josh groaned and buried his face in his hands. He shook his head then reached for the phone. He lay back on his couch and dialed the number. After three rings, it was answered.

"Hello," his mother's voice carried lyrically over the line.

"What the hell is this?" Josh said without preamble.

"It's good to hear your voice too, Joshua," Anna responded brightly.

"Mom, what's this about?" he asked, looking sideways at the envelope.

"That's between you and your father," she said divining what he meant. "I was never involved in your private discussions. Whatever he had to say was for you to read only. He didn't consult me."

"So you don't know anything about this?" Josh asked despairingly. "Any idea when it was written even?"

"He didn't date it?" she asked with surprise. "That is odd."

"Well, I don't know if he did," Josh explained. "I haven't exactly read it."

"By that you mean..."

"I haven't opened it," Josh said.

Anna sighed. She did not like the uncertainty she heard in her son's voice. It was all the more troubling as it was there the last time they spoke as well. Her son was an expert at hiding his troubles and his feelings. That they were so raw and cumbersome to be this close to the surface and unguarded struck worry into her bones.

"Joshua, it's from your father," Anna said reassuringly. "What are you afraid it could say?" 

"I suppose if he tells me that he's dying I'll be devastated," Josh scoffed.

"Joshua," she chided him.

"Well, where did it come from?" Josh asked adamantly.

"I explained that in my note," she said. "I was going through his boxes. It was in a folder. I found the letter a couple weeks ago. I was going to give it to you when I saw you next. But after talking to you last weekend, I decided send it along."

"Why?"

"Because, frankly dear, you sound like you need to hear from your father," she said, controlling her voice. There were times when she would like to find a long lost letter from Noah addressed to her; this was one of them.

"Oh," Josh said. "Well, you didn't have to."

"It belongs to you," she said.

"I know," he said quickly. "I just meant that I'm fine."

"Of course, dear," she said not bothering to argue. "Read your letter, Joshua. It's probably just a quick note to complain about the squirrels; he knew I didn't want to hear it any more, so maybe he took a moment to share his ire with you."

"Maybe," Josh said, managing a weak chuckle.

"Are you leaving for your trip?"

"I don't know," he said. "I've got a lot to do. I should get going."

"All right, good bye then," she said then added quickly. "It'll be all right, Joshua. Whatever has gone wrong, you can fix it."

"Yeah," Josh sighed.

"I love you, Darling," Anna said.

"I know," Josh replied softly. "I love you, too."

He disconnected and sat up. He looked around his apartment. The rain was falling harder, and the sky was growing darker still. Inside, everything was so quiet and still. Josh used to long for moments like this: no chaos, no distractions--just stillness and quiet for a moment of peace. Now the prospect grated on him. They were an agonizing reminder that he was alone. Alone wasn't so bad, but being without Donna hurt like hell.

President Bartlet had said he needed to make a choice. There didn't appear to be a large selection from which to chose. Donna was gone. Talking her into coming back would not work--as the President pointed out, Josh had spent his store of second chances long ago.

And he felt certain that he didn't deserve another chance in this case. Donna had been treated badly by other men--he knew all the stories quite well. She was too smart to let it happen again. Or would she? Might she care enough to hear him out? To give him one last chance? Should he even try? Was this whole thing so insane that it was better off being over?

With a burst of courage propelled primarily by frustration with his unanswered questions, Josh grabbed the envelope and tore open the seal.

*****************

_February 24, 1998_

_Josh-_

_It's difficult to keep up with you lately. Well, it's always been a challenge, but then again everything about you is--and that's one of the reasons I am so proud. I have been considering writing this letter to you for some time, but I keep putting it off. To write it wreaks of a finality I am not willing to accept. However, I have reached a point in my life where I must acknowledge that, regardless, there is less time in front of than there is behind me. Such a realization makes a man do a considerable amount of thinking (your mother calls it nostalgia but that's too passive for me). But I will admit that while in this contemplative mode, a plethora of thoughts I don't normally consciously muse upon do tend to crop up and linger. I consider it a high tribute to the way I have lived my life that so few of these thoughts are patently sorrowful. Of them all, the greatest in number and most comforting of all are those of your mother and you._

_Despite my years, I have come to the conclusion that life is short, even if the days and nights are long. There is very little I would do differently given the opportunity to start over again, but I would like to have had more time nonetheless. There are so many things I want to tell you, yet I know it will do no good for they are things you will need to learn in your own time. I have boundless faith in you, Joshua. That's one of the things you can't fully appreciate just yet; you don't yet know the joy of watching your own child grow and learn and mature and succeed. There are many kinds of success in life; recognition for academic prowse and winning elections are two forms, but there is more._

_While your world is exciting, it does leave me with a shade of despair: the lack of a grandchild to sit upon my knee so I can tell him stories, such as those which show what a wonderful litigator his grandfather is. I won't belabor this point further, but I do hope some day you find a woman who will bring you the happiness I found with your mother; I hope you one day have a child of your own. If he makes you a fraction as proud as I am of you, then you will surely will have received what you deserve._

_And, having said that, I also want to tell you that I do understand. I understand why you have focused your life the way you have. I know it is early in the race, but I believe this is a good and righteous man you follow. As I have followed this campaign, I have become certain this is where you are supposed to be, Josh. This is what you are meant to do. Though Governor Bartlet is considered a longshot, I believe your efforts will lead him to victory in the end. The next time I visit you in Washington, I am confident it will be at the White House._

_It is unfortunate that your schedule doesn't allow for our late night discussions much any longer. Do you remember the first one? You probably don't. You were barely five at the time. I'll never forget it. I had just finished the Janke case--six months of litigation that was settled after a 35 minute shouting match in the board room. I got home around 10 pm and was surprised to find you sitting at the kitchen table alone, waiting for me. There was no "Hello, Dad." No, you cut right to business: "What's Eastern Standard Time?" Someone had told you about turning back the clocks, and you wanted to know where that extra hour was going. You'd stayed awake and waited for your mother to go to bed then snuck out of your room to wait for me. You grilled me, trying to understand this concept--take it from me, nothing will test your intellectual acumen like being cross examined by a precocious five-year-old. Finally, I was too tired to explain any more and said you had to go to bed. You looked at me with the most thoughtful but condescending gaze I had ever seen and said, "Okay, we'll finish this tomorrow." Sure enough, when I got home the next night, there you were again--only this time you had a pencil and paper and you wanted me to draw you a map of where time was going. I knew for certain that I should expect extraordinary things from you._

_You have not disappointed me. I am proud that you are the legacy I will leave to this world. Today, I look at you and I am amazed because though you are the senior political director of a presidential campaign, I can't help but think of you also as the little boy who fell asleep on my shoulder as we rode the train home from your first baseball game in the City; the stubborn child who would stare at the broccoli in his plate for hours, refusing to even taste it; the boy who arrived at my office bruised and bloodied after a fight at school, seeking not comfort but collusion in your plan to hide the incident from your mother (by the way, I learned recently that she never believed you fell off your bike that day)._

_All of these memories seem like both a long time ago and only yesterday in the same instant. I see you now (I just saw you on CNN in the background of a 'Bartlet for America' rally--is that phone surgically attached yet because I haven't see you without it for weeks) and I see a brilliant and dynamic man who I am so proud to know carries my family name. I believe there is nothing you can't do, Joshua._

_There is so much more I want to say, but I don't know where to begin so perhaps I will end this rambling and save the rest of another time. At the moment, I'm not even sure if I will mail this to your apartment in Georgetown or wait to see if you come home for a brief visit when you next return to New England. Not that this matters because if you are reading this, then I have found you somehow; just know that you are never far from my thoughts--nor have you ever been--and I understand why you have chosen this course for you life._

_In the end, only you know what's right and what's best for you. Destiny is a fickle mistress not easily tamed. Like true love, she should never be kept waiting. I believe Destiny is calling you, Joshua. Go after her._

_Love,_

_Dad_

*****************

_The White House_

_7 p.m._

"Where the hell were you?" Leo barked as Josh entered the Chief of Staff's office.

It was more than an hour after Josh had initially left the White House on the President's orders. In that time, he had been busy, rushing around, packing and making reservations. Charlie was at that moment pitching in the final piece of the plan. All that was left for Josh to do was inform Leo he would be taking his vacation after all.

"I had some things I needed to do," Josh began to explain.

"Yeah, like the report I asked for," Leo growled. "Is it done?"

"Not exactly," Josh said excitedly. 

"And by that you mean?"

"I haven't started it," he answered.

"Josh, no," Leo scolded him. "Whatever it is you want to say, stop. Okay. I need that..."

"Leo, I can't," Josh protested. "I've got to..."

"Listen to me," Leo said tersely interrupting him. "What you've got to do is finish what I asked. It's too bad about your vacation, but frankly you don't look like you really cared that much to go anyway. I need this done."

"I know that, Leo, but I really need to...."

"Don't argue with me, Josh," Leo snapped. "Not today. I've spent all day going 12 rounds with the leadership on our short list for the Commerce Secretary and then for fun re-fought the battle Verdunne with Fitzwallace and the Chancellor of Germany over funding for an airbase. I haven't eaten in 12 hours or slept in 25 hours. Whatever your problem is, I don't care. Not now. Right now, I'm about giving orders and having them followed. So I'm telling you what you need to do: Finish the damn report!"

"That's my only choice?"

"No," Leo countered curtly as he sat down and snapped his glasses open to read a stack of faxes on his desk. "This is a democracy; you've always got a choice. Let me make this fair and simple: Finish the report now or leave and don't bother to come back. How about that?"

Josh opened his mouth to plead his case, but stopped. He looked at the clock on the wall. There wasn't time to help Leo--not this time. 

"Thank you, sir," Josh said in his perfunctory manner. 

He turned on his heel and went back to his office. He sat at his computer briefly and pecked out a brief memo. He stared into space for a moment as the printer spit out the document. He then grabbed the bulk of the reports and started toward the Communications Bullpen with a determined stride.

**Up next Chapter 7: The Prince of Darkness**


	7. The Prince of Darkness

**Title**: **HEAVEN AND HELL, _The Prince of Darkness _**(Chapter Seven)  
**Authors: Enigmatic Ellie and Westwinger247**  
**Webpage: **  
**Notes**: _This is the sequel to THE QUEST. Thanks to those of you who followed us from one series to the next._

*****************

_I Street_

_Georgetown_

_Friday, 7:50 p.m._

"Donna!"

Donna stopped in her tracks as she recognized the voice calling to her in the wind and rain swept darkness. She shot a quick glance at Zoey who looked supremely guilty in a well-intentioned way. Donna's curiosity over Zoey's recent phone call and its stilted conversation became clear. Donna shifted her umbrella to her other shoulder and walked faster into the driving rain.

"Donna, stop," Josh commanded.

"Go away," she replied as she stood still but refused to turn around.

"Hey, Josh," Zoey said brightly. "You're soaked."

"Thank you," Josh said, nodding at her briskly, not having heard a word she said.

He stepped in front of Donna, blocking her path. Zoey was right, Donna noted. He was indeed drenched. His trench coat was soaked; the water blistered and dripped from his face and hair. 

"I thought you were working," she said coldly. "I'm on vacation. Whatever it is...."

As Donna looked at him, something struck her as odd. It was his eyes. They lacked that light, that devious glint, that cocky self-assuredness that was both his greatest asset and his Achilles Heel. For a moment, Donna worried. She was certain something had gone devastatingly wrong and ceased her verbal jab.

"Donna, please," he pleaded, as she paused. "Listen to me."

She sighed, angry with herself for being drawn in again. Not caring about Josh was nearly as difficult as caring about him.

"I don't have to do anything," she said flatly. "I told you; I'm on vacation. Whatever you need, ask someone else to find it for you. You have plenty of employees to give orders to. You're good at it. It's what you do best."

"Okay, I deserved that," he relented. "I want.... I need to talk to you." 

"Well, I don't want to talk to you," she countered and tried to step around him. "I think you said all you needed to say."

"But I didn't," he argued, grasping her elbow to keep her from fleeing.

"That's really not my problem," she said as she jerking her arm free as she began to walk away. "Good bye."

"I don't care if you're mad at me," he called after her in beseeching tones. "Just tell me I haven't lost you!"

Donna halted her exit, his words still ringing in her ears as loudly as the rain which fell from the sky like sheets of lead, pounding onto her umbrella and the ground with a fierce rumble. She turned slowly to face him. The expression on his face was as dire as his heart wrenching words.

"You've more than earned the right to walk away from me," Josh said. "If I've lost you, then that's my fault. I'll have to find a way to live with it, but if the last week and a half is any indication, then I don't know how I'll do it. You're not an easy person to get over, Donnatella Moss. I've been through hell several times in my life, but I think this is the first time I've actually been scared. I just... Donna, I'm sorry."

She stared at him, fighting every instinct to wrap her arms around him and hold him and tell him it would be all right. She swiftly reminded herself that this was Josh Lyman, the self-proclaimed man-myth-legend; the man who would never change; a politician and spin doctor who was too good at getting his way. Donna was through with being the one who compromised and got her heart broken each time. _What Josh wants no longer matters_, she told herself.

She conjured her most nasty tone and prepared to sink his contrived effort to have an after hours playmate to satisfy his libido.

"Sorry?" she repeated as harshly and frigidly as she could manage. "Really? Sorry for what?"

Her condescending stare cut through him and stabbed at his heart.

"I'm sorry for...," he paused and searched the inky sky for an answer. Finding none, he gazed back at her face and all the hurt there which he knew was his fault. "For everything I've never done for you."

His words caught her off guard and broke her stony expression. She looked past Josh to Zoey who was standing within earshot and blatantly eavesdropping.

"Josh, this is not the place," Donna said in a hushed voice.

"I don't care," he said.

"Me either," Zoey called, grinning brightly. "Pretend I'm not here at all."

Donna stepped closer to Josh and whispered sternly to him. "You're unstable."

"Well, I'm in love with you so draw your own conclusion," he said in an even tone.

"You're what?"

"I love you," he said, surprised to hear the words tumble out of his mouth. "To hell with it--with everything else. All that matters to me right now is you. Donna, don't leave me. Please, I'm asking; I'm begging. I can't lose you. I won't."

Donna bit her lip. The sound of the rain and the splash of the deluge that poured down from the sky on them seemed farther away. There was a lump in her throat as she tried to speak, stopping her words. Josh reached into the breast pocket of his coat and withdrew a piece of paper.

"It's a plane ticket—well, an itinerary, actually," he said handing it to her. "If we hurry we can just make it."

"Wha... what?" she stammered.

Her fingers trembled as she unfolded the paper. It swiftly buckled as drops the size of quarters pelted it from above as she tried to read.

"I'm not trying to buy your forgiveness," he promised. "This is not a bribe; this is a proposition. Just let me plead my case. If by the time we land, you still want nothing to do with me, then you've just gotten a round trip ticket across the Atlantic and a hotel room to yourself--free of charge; no strings attached."

"You want to have a private discussion... on a commercial airplane?" Donna surmised.

"Frankly, I like my chances better if you can't walk away from me," Josh said honestly, then added quickly and contritely. "It's only stacking the deck slightly."

"What?" she said absentmindedly. "No, Josh. I.... I can't. I'm not prepared; I don't have my passport; I don't even know if I want...."

"You're bags are packed and on their way," he said, handing her a blue booklet that had been in his pocket with the itinerary. "Here is your passport. My car is parked around the corner. Donna, please come with me."

*****************

_Reagan National Airport_

_8:52 p.m_.

Charlie handed over the luggage he had brought to the airport in his role as the willing co-conspirator in the operation. He smiled widely as Donna hugged him briefly and whispered a word of thanks for retrieving her things from her apartment.

"Have a nice vacation, Donna," Charlie said warmly.

"I don't know if it will be nice," she said. "But I'm not passing up a chance to go here for free."

"Well, at least try to enjoy yourself," Charlie offered with a sage look and firm nod. "I checked the weather and this is a good time of year in the Mediterranean."

"Is there a bad time of year?"

"Not really," Charlie shook his head. "You should hurry. You'll be boarding soon."

Donna grabbed her bag and walked toward the ticket desk to check in. Josh hung back for a second to offer his appreciation to the President's Personal Aide.

"I owe you," Josh said.

"I feel like I owed you," Charlie said. "And before you disagree, let me say I meant because you were the one who hired me in the first place. This job changed my life. Making a few phone calls and delivering a bag was the least I could do in return."

"You drove to the airport with a bag of women's clothing," Josh said.

"You might say it's been a dream of mine," Charlie shrugged.

"You've done more than you know," Josh said simply as he shook Charlie's hand and bid him good-bye.

Charlie turned and began to walk away when Josh realized he had forgotten one thing.

"Wait!" Josh shouted as he pulled an envelope from his backpack then ran to stop Charlie. "Can I impose upon you one final time?"

"Sure," Charlie said suspiciously.

"Give this to Leo," Josh said handing him the letter. "And, about my office.... Never mind. Leo will have someone deal with it."

Charlie noted that Josh's shoulders seemed to drop slightly and his expression lost some of it's excitement as he released the envelope from his grip.

"Sure," Charlie said cautiously placing the envelope in his pocket. "What is this?"

"Thanks for everything, Charlie," Josh said. He nodded once then walked away to join Donna.

*****************

_Chief of Staff's Office_

_Saturday morning_

Saturday morning dawned hazy, hot and humid. The air was thick and filmy with the day's coming weather. Leo sat in his air conditioned office and sifted through his mail with a grumble. With the explosion of wireless and paperless technology, it seemed his office was inundated with an exponentially increase in paper communication. He had dreams of starting a bonfire with the excess pages that could be seen all the way back in Boston.

Traffic that morning was a new level of hell as road crews were working their summer hours and found rerouting traffic on a moment's notice was not only their legal right, but also a perverse pleasure they invoked whenever Leo attempted to find a new route to the office. He envied Josh his apartment's location. Living within a reasonable walking distance to a Metro stop was yet another thing Leo would put on his list of "Reasons To Be Annoyed With Josh Today."

He did not like torpedoing his Deputy's vacation plans any more than he liked being annoyed with the man--but both were easy and necessary this week. Leo knew Josh needed a break, but sacrifice was part of the job description. Leo admitted to himself that maybe he had been a little too terse the previous evening, but Josh was used to that. He had taken his share of Leo's wrath in the past (a vast majority of it duly earned). And he wasn't a sensitive kind of person who would feel his position with Leo was threatened in any way; he knew were he stood with Leo and that Leo trusted him more than anyone else on staff. Leo knew he wouldn't need to apologize for his outburst--though he was certain he would because it was the proper thing to do and yelling at Josh always made him feel guilty the same way he felt when he had punished Mallory unduly when she was a child. Not that Josh would want an apology; he didn't expect such things. Josh was, despite his hot-headed tendencies, a reasonable man who took chaos in stride. That's why Leo's confidence in the man was virtually boundless.

"Good morning, Leo," Bartlet called.

The President entered from the Oval Office. He was dressed casually in a pair of faded jeans and short-sleeved Notre Dame T-shirt. He held a newspaper folded in his hands.

"Good morning, Mr. President," Leo replied as he stood. "What are you doing here this early? There's nothing on the schedule until 11."

"There was a beautiful sunrise this morning," Bartlet explained as he took a seat opposite Leo. "After that, I caught up on some reading. Cleve Patterson is pushing to increase the cost of dog licenses. And he wants to create one for cats, too."

"Who?"

"Cleve Patterson," Bartlet said again, holding up the paper. "He's on the Manchester City Council. He wants to increase the cost for a family to have a dog or to own a cat. Can you believe that? I understand the concept of licensure of animals, but really. There just seems to be something wrong with a man who wants to prevent a kid from having a pet. He must be from out of state originally. Patterson doesn't sound like a New Hampshire name."

"Whatever, sir," Leo said as he returned to his correspondence.

He came to a simple white envelope with his name written across the front. The handwriting looked familiar. He turned it over and saw a signature scrawled across the seam.

"What's this?" he murmured.

"What's what?" Bartlet asked.

"This," Leo said, slitting the fold. "It's from Josh. I was a little rough on him last night."

Bartlet chuckled. "It's probably a pledge never to incur your wrath again."

"I just don't see this worship complex you seem to think he has," Leo shook his head as he pulled the single page out of the envelope.

"Worship is not the right word, I agree," Bartlet explained. "What was it Brennan called him? _My shield and my sword_? That's more accurate. He'd fall on his sword for you without hesitation. You can't tell me you don't know that."

"I know it find it impossible to believe he finally mastered the art of brevity," Leo remarked as he started to read. "But if this is the education break down, I'll kill him...."

"There's precious little he wouldn't do for you," Bartlet continued. "Nor you for him, I suspect. Which is why I wanted to mention..."

"Huh?" Leo said, not hearing the President as absorbed the brief message.

"You and Josh...."

Leo blinked hard then reread the few short sentences. He looked in the empty envelope for... something, anything that would explain what he was reading.

"What the hell," Leo growled and slapped the letter onto his desk top. "That crazy son of a....! Margaret!"

"She's not here," Bartlet remarked. "She's with Debbie getting the.... Leo, what is it?"

Leo grabbed his phone and stabbed at the digits until the extension in Josh's office began to ring. There was no answer. He next tried Josh's cell--same luck. He tried the pager and finally his home phone number in vain as well. He next dialed the Communication's bullpen.

"Sam, get in here," Leo barked and dropped the phone back in its cradle.

Bartlet regarded him with raised eyebrows

"Leo?"

"This time he has done it," Leo muttered as he read the letter again. "He's lost his mind for real."

"Leo?"

"You're not going to believe this, sir," Leo sighed as he handed over the letter.

Bartlet took the letter and placed his glasses upon his face.

To: Leo McGarry, White House Chief of Staff 

From: Joshua Lyman, Deputy White House Chief of Staff 

Leo, 

It is an honor and a pleasure to serve both you and President Bartlet. In any other circumstance, I would gladly do everything in my power to fulfill my duties to you both. I am forever in your debt for every opportunity you have graciously offered to me. 

I have placed the needs of this administration first at all times. Timing is everything in politics, and in this instance you have asked me to make a sacrifice I feel is too great. You gave me two options, and this is my choice. 

Therefore, effective immediately, I hereby tender my letter of resignation as your Deputy Chief of Staff. 

Sincerely, 

Joshua Lyman 

Bartlet sighed and shook his head as he read the memo. Sam suddenly peered around the doorway with a cautious and expectant expression

"Get in here," Leo barked.

"Good morning, Sam," Bartlet said cheerfully.

"Good morning, Mr. President," Sam replied with equal energy.

"Did you see the sunrise this morning?" the President asked.

"Yes, I did, sir," Sam said. "I think if the haze burns off we will be having a lovely day."

"I don't know about that, Sam," Bartlet said. "It was a beautiful sunrise, but there was a lot of red in the sky. Red sky in the morning, farmers take warning. I think we're in for another storm."

"Folk meteorology is fascinating," Leo said flatly. "Sam, where the hell's Josh?"

"He left," Sam said.

"In more ways than one," Leo said. "When and to where?"

"Yesterday and South Carolina, I believe," Sam answered. "What's up?"

"Find him!"

"Now?"

"Would later work better for you?"

"No," Sam said chastely. "Is something wrong?"

"Always," Leo said firmly.

Sam ducked his head and left the office on his mission.

"What's this he mentions about you giving him two options?" Bartlet asked gesturing to the letter still in his hands.

"It's the final evidence that Josh is as crazy as we all fear some days," Leo said.

Bartlet chuckled and shook his head. Leo failed to see any levity in the situation. His deputy had lost his marbles and flown the coop over night. In addition to his anger over having his orders expressly denied by a trusted member of his staff, Leo was also growing worried. As stated in the letter, Josh's life always took a second seat to the needs of the administration. A golfing excursion should not have prompted this kind of reaction unless something else was quite wrong. It had been a long time since Leo had worries of this kind regarding Josh.

"When I get my hands on him," Leo said gnashing his teeth.

"You sound like a father who's child has blown curfew," Bartlet observed.

"Raising this staff has never been easy," Leo grumbled.

"Especially when they grow up and make their own decisions," Bartlet offered with a chuckle. "Leo, you don't have to..."

"Mr. President, this is not a joke," Leo said. "That idiot..."

"Which idiot?" Bartlet queried. "Josh or Sam?"

"For the moment, I'll stick with Josh," Leo replied. "Sir, he's not joking."

"No, I would expect not," Bartlet agreed. "Which is why I was trying to say..."

"Leo," Sam said breezing into the office, waving a cell. "He canceled."

"Canceled?"

"Yeah, his trip--the vacation he had planned," Sam said, concern seeping into his voice. "I called Chris Wick; he said Josh canceled on them yesterday morning. The thing is, I saw Josh last evening and he told me he was leaving on his trip. I don't know where he was going, but he was in a hurry."

"Great," Leo sighed. "We gotta find him. Call..."

"Already did," Sam said, shaking his head. "No luck."

"Who?" Bartlet asked.

"Donna," Sam and Leo answered in unison.

"Well, that settles things," Bartlet said sagely.

"How?" Sam asked. "There's no answer at her apartment. I asked Bonnie if she had seen her and she seems to think Donna was going to be on vacation as well; she mentioned something about visiting a friend in Pennsylvania this week. What's going on?"

"I don't know," Leo said tightly.

"It won't be easy to track him down, Leo," Sam informed him as he looked at the phone and other device in his palm again. "He's gone completely incommunicado."

"What?"

"His cell and his pager," Sam said. "These are them. I found them sitting on his desk."

"Wonderful," Leo moaned. 

"I'll go see if I can..."

"Yeah," Leo grumbled toward Sam. "Do that."

Sam exited the office quickly.

"That was a nice touch," Bartlet said slowly as he nodded. "Leaving the technology behind. He must be going through withdrawal without them."

"Sir, this is nothing to be impressed by," Leo insisted.

"I disagree," Bartlet said easily. "I'm quite impressed. It's been a long time since I've seen Josh do anything with this kind of gusto. It's invigorating."

"You mean infuriating," Leo offered.

"No, I don't," Bartlet shook his head. "There is more forethought here than you give him credit for, Leo. I'm certain the heartburn it's giving you was unintentional, though on some level I find it wonderfully satisfying."

"Sir?"

"Leo, call off the search party," Bartlet said as he rose from his chair. "When he returns you can sit down and talk with him, but go easy on him. This was not a decision he made lightly."

"Sir, this is not something I can ignore," Leo objected. "He's... He's gone nuts."

"I agree it appears a bit rash, at least in part of his decision," Bartlet said folding the letter. "But you know better than I do that Josh believes impatience is a virtue."

"That's an understatement," Leo seethed.

"But it appears, my good man, that you helped out," Bartlet continued as he placed the letter into his pocket. "You apparently gave him some options, and he chose one. That it is not the one you would prefer is a discussion for another time. We'll deal with it later. For now, tell Sam to call off the search. Josh is coming home on next Sunday; his plane lands around 6 p.m."

"How do you know that?" Leo asked.

"Same way I know where he is, when he left, and why he went," Bartlet in a scholarly tone.

"You had the Secret Service track him?" Leo asked.

"Better," Bartlet said with a quick grin. "I have Charlie."

*****************

_Saturday, 11 a.m._

_Athens, Greece_

The sun bounced off the diamond blue ocean. Donna looked at the sights and sounds around her. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined herself in Greece and certainly not under these circumstances. Despite Josh's words in Georgetown, very little talking was done between them during the trans-Atlantic flight—at least nothing of any substance. Donna was still confused as to why she was asked here—even more confused as to why she accepted.

A knock on the door snapped her from her daydreams. She made her way to the door and looked through the spy hole. Josh was waiting on the other side.

Donna opened the door. "Hi."

"Hi," he replied. "Your room okay?"

Donna nodded. "Yeah. You booked two?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, okay," Donna nodded. She was glad and yet saddened by the fact. "Um... why?"

"I was being realistic," he answered with a shrug.

"Well, good," she answered slowly. "I mean. I'm glad. That is..... It was the right thing to do."

"Sure," he agreed. "Uh, can I...."

"Oh, yes," she said realizing she was making him stand in the hall. "I'm sorry. Please, come in."

Josh entered the room and surveyed the layout. It was a large and bright room with lots of light flooding in from the bank of windows dressed in a white gauzy material that fluttered in the mid-morning breeze. This was the main room in the suite, he knew from the reservation details. There was a bedroom to the left and a set of double doors directly across the room leading to a balcony that was supposed to have a breathtaking view of Athens.

"So the room's okay?" he asked again casually.

"Okay?" she marveled. "Have you looked out the window? Josh, I have Athens. It's right there. I almost didn't dare to fall asleep when we got here. I sat on the balcony and watched the.... well, _the outside_ for an hour. I could just sit there for a week."

"Kind of defeats the purpose of being here," he pointed out.

"I said I could, I didn't say I would," she answered promptly. "How's your room? You're down the hall and on the other side. What do you see?"

"The other side," he said simply. He honestly hadn't looked and considering that he had booked a suite for Donna and a single room for himself, he doubted there was much of anything to see from his one window. 

"I... uh, I slept in," she confessed. "I just got dressed. You've probably been up for a few hours. Sorry."

"No," he lied. "Not that long. I was you know…. So, you're staying?"

She hesitated before answering. That was the other thing that kept her up well after they checked into the hotel. A free trip to Greece with no obvious work-related reason was a gift she wanted to take advantage of; however, there was the Josh question to answer. He had not said much on the flight. She had expected him to do as he said and plead his case. However, he merely apologized one final time and then started a conversation about Greece and history. It was a fascinating discussion that she enjoyed greatly; Greece being the birthplace of Democracy, it was something Josh knew quite a bit about; Donna's knowledge of the place was more in the realm of mythology--something about which Josh knew little. The flight to London was uneasy for her as she expected him to discuss the confession in Georgetown about his feelings. However, not long after they took off from Heathrow Airport on their way to Athens, Donna had fallen asleep. 

Josh had said little on the ride to the hotel. She was surprised when they were assigned separate rooms and even more taken aback when they parted for the night with a simple good night in the hallway. So she had stayed awake to sort out her feelings. She had no more answers by morning.

"Yes, I would like to stay," she said simply. "On one condition."

"What?"

"Have you eaten yet?" she asked. "I'm starving and if I don't eat soon, I'm going to hurt someone."

"We've got plans," he said. "Grab something to throw over your shoulders."

"Why?"

"We're having lunch near the water," he said. "Mark said it's a little breezy."

"Mark?"

"Mark Reed," he answered. "He's a friend."

"Do I know him?"

"No, but you probably met his father at the office," Josh said as he headed toward the door. "Milo Reed. He's the Pennsylvania lawyer who..."

"The one who sued the state to get the recount," Donna nodded. "His son lives in Greece?"

"He works for us," Josh said. "He's with State--sort of."

"Sort of?"

"Yeah, I really don't know what he does precisely," Josh said. "Mark just.... Well, he does things. Oh, word of warning. He got married by accident once..."

"By accident?"

"Sort of," Josh shrugged. "He had just gotten divorced the first time and.... He celebrated or commiserated.... badly."

"And he's your friend?"

"We went to college together," Josh said.

"He's a lawyer?"

"No."

"So he's like you," she surmised.

"No, he's.... I'm a lawyer," he replied, the perturbed dimple welling up in his cheek. "He's ridiculous."

"No wonder you're friends," she said plainly and headed toward the door.

Donna slipped into her sweater as the two left her room. They rode the elevator down to the lobby. Donna continued to marvel out loud about the hotel. When they reached the lobby, Josh signaled the concierge to hail a cab for them. The man nodded and swiftly exited the revolving doors. With three quick gestures, a cab swiftly came to a stop in front of the hotel. The concierge opened the cab door. Donna entered first, followed by Josh. Josh gave the driver address and they were on their way.

The cab weaved through the streets of Athens. Donna wasn't new to erratic cab drivers, but the driver's actions made her slightly edgy. The traffic eventually eased as the car made its way out of downtown and towards the coastal area.

"I can't believe I'm here," she remarked. "Look at this place. Do you see this?"

"Yeah, I see buildings and sky and cars," Josh remarked.

"You would," she shook her head. "I mean, look at all this. It's so old and historic and then right in front of you something new and technological."

"'Cause that's nothing like it is at home," he remarked.

"We don't have anything this old in Washington," she said.

"Not since Senator Thurman left, no," he agreed.

The cab screeched to a halt in front of the restaurant. Josh paid the driver and the duo exited. They stopped at the entrance of the restaurant and Josh informed the host about their reservation. The gentleman nodded and escorted Josh and Donna to an outdoor area to where their lunch companion waited with a bottle of wine.

The trio sat and enjoyed the delicious local cuisine. Mark enlightened Donna on the history of the area, which Donna matched his with some trivia of her own. Josh interjected when he could. Many of the topics devolved after several minutes into a verbal sparring between the two men about who was more inept similar issues. Through the discourse, Donna received a handful of small bits of information about Josh that she could tell from his expression he wished she didn't know. Mostly, she was entertained. She didn't feel as though she was on a luncheon date nor did it feel like a business meeting. She wasn't sure precisely what was going on, but it was a fun way to spend an afternoon, Donna though as she chuckled upon learning that it was Mark's fish (_dear, dear Rosemary_) who earned her two companions placement the special Dean's list and near expulsion from Harvard.

Once lunch was complete, the trio parted ways. Josh and Donna then ambled around the seaside area, soaking in the culture. They stopped every few feet to step inside the shops. Donna picked up a few tiny trinkets for herself and her mother along the way. She marveled at how casually Josh was during the entire excursion—even as they returned to some shops that they had visited previously. Donna lost track of time and only checked her watch when her stomach informed her of her hunger. They had been touring the area for seven hours. They grabbed a quick snack and headed back to the hotel, arriving as the sun started to set.

Donna place her keycard into the slot and opened the door. Josh entered behind her holding her bags.

"You want to head out again and find some..."

"No," she said quickly. "I mean, I'm all walked out, but I'm hungry too. Is room service included with my vacation?"

"Only if you order it," he answered.

"Okay," she said as she flipped open the menu. "Would you like to.... join me?"

"Sure, order something for me," he shrugged. "I'm going to go to my room—see if I have any messages. I'll be right back."

"Sure thing." Donna picked up the phone and ordered.

Josh knocked on her door a few minutes later. "Okay. Room service will be here in ten minutes."

"Good," he said, stifling a yawn.

Donna picked up the phone again. "Maybe I should cancel."

"What?"

"The food," she explained. "You look beat. Is something going on back at the office?"

"No," Josh said. "I'm just not used to..."

"Relaxing and not working all day?"

"You're just full of witty repartee tonight aren't you?"

"I blame it on the sea air," she smiled. 

"Well, then that's probably what's getting to me," Josh said rubbing a stiff spot in his neck. "The fresh air. It's probably bad for you."

"Your neck bothering you?" she asked with concern. "Come here."

"I'm fine."

"Sit," she said firmly and pointed to the edge of her bed.

Josh knew the tone well. It was the one she used for the better part of three months in the late summer and early fall of 2000 when she became the self-appointed warden overseeing his recovery. There was no arguing—at least no successful arguing—with that tone. With a sigh of defeat, he did as commanded.

Donna knelt behind him and began kneading the muscles in less than gentle fashion. Josh's protests and cries of pain had no effect on her mangling motions. He wondered aloud if she was getting some revenge on him for things he had said to her after Earl Brennan's funeral. She neither confirmed nor denied the accusation.

"Your silence leads me to believe you're essentially pleading nolo contendre," Josh observed as she released his flesh from her vise-like fingers.

"Only if you agree you've been a jackass," she offered.

"Stipulate it."

"Dragging out the lawyer talk for any special reason?" she asked. 

"It helps me block out the pain," he answered, rubbing his neck which was less stiff but infinitely more sore. "Can I just say that it's a good thing you never majored in physical therapy?"

"Well, at one time...."

"Don't," he cut her off. "Please, just don't."

"Fine," she grinned as the knock on the door signaled their meal had arrived. "Let's eat on the balcony. I love the view."

Donna answered the door and had the table brought to her requested spot. After the porter left, she grandly whipped the covers off the plates to reveal her orders: hamburgers (one incinerated nearly to the point of charcoal) and fries.

"Finally come around to my idea of health food?" he asked.

"This is my concession," she said. "I may have said some not so nice things to you... or about you in the last few days. This is my way of saying, I'm sorry."

"By ordering food you constantly explain will kill me," he remarked. "And having me pay for it?"

"Be quiet or you don't get fries," she warned.

They ate in casual silence. The sun sank into the sea and leaving the sky a brilliant pink. Donna pushed her plate away, noting that she had eaten more than Josh did. She could see there were things on his mind. She suspected it was related to whatever was going on at the White House. She had looked at a newspaper headline-one of the few she saw in English—that afternoon and nothing seemed blazingly wrong in the world. She figured that was why he was not on his cell phone every 20 minutes. So, rather than ask him what the problem was, she decided to take full advantage of the concept of vacation.

"Donna?" Josh said, breaking her from her trace.

"Hmmm?"

Rather than answer, he reached over and wiped a glob of ketchup from the corner of her mouth. It had been driving him nuts for several minutes. Donna blushed with embarrassment, more so when she laughed and believe she had snorted like a pig.

"I can't take you anywhere," he shook his head. "Think maybe you could muster up basic manners by tomorrow evening?"

"You told me at lunch that we're going to the vineyards tomorrow morning," she said, recalling his promise earlier in the day. "What's in the evening?"

"I don't know," Josh said, standing and preparing to leave. "Mark said he had something you'd like."

"I think I know what you mean when you said '_Mark does things_,'" Donna remarked. "So, don't take this the wrong way because I thought he was charming, but I'm sort of worried about not having more details than he has _something_."

"I doubt he's staging a coup," Josh assured her. "He's got tickets for something. A show or a performance, I guess. He's a mid-level diplomat. He's used to entertaining the families of important people so he's got access to things."

"I actually think I may have something to wear," Donna said. "Whoever packed for me, and I'm kind of afraid to ask, so please don't tell me—because if it's Charlie I'll never be able to look him in the eye again knowing he's folded my bras—apparently made sure I was prepared."

"It wasn't Charlie," Josh said. "Your ex-roommate."

"Oh," Donna responded. "You got her to..."

"Actually, Charlie did," Josh said. "She never liked me much."

"True," Donna nodded and caught a glare from Josh that said he didn't need confirmation of that.

"Charlie just retrieved your bags and brought them to the airport," Josh said as he walked to the door. 

"Okay then," she nodded relieved. "Are you leaving?"

"Yeah," he said simply. "I'm tired. We've got to be on the road pretty early tomorrow. Better set your alarm. Good night."

He closed the door without a backward glance. Donna stared at the now empty room with confusion. 

"Good night," she said belatedly and shivered in the breeze.

*****************

_Washington, DC_

_Oval Office_

_7:35 a.m._

"This is a sad day, Leo," Bartlet said as his Chief of Staff entered the Oval. "A sad, sad day indeed." 

"I'm sorry sir?" Leo asked. "I haven't been briefed on any tragedy. What happened?" 

The President placed a newspaper on the desk. "The Old Man. He's gone." 

"Sir?" 

"The 'Old Man of the Mountain'," Bartlet explained. "The symbol of New Hampshire collapsed over the weekend. Centuries it stood, Leo. And in an instant," he snapped his fingers, "it was gone." 

Leo picked up the paper and placed his glasses on his face. "It says that only cables and epoxy were left. That's pretty much gone." 

"Can you believe they tried using epoxy to keep the ol' guy up there?" Bartlet posed. "Glue, Leo. They tried to keep it up there with Elmer's Glue!" 

"I think that the glue was stronger than that, sir," Leo quipped. "Says here that Governor Benson wants to revitalize it and is looking for donations." 

"Donations," the President scoffed. "I can just bet I'll be getting a call in the next few days. I never thought I'd see the day when that piece of history wouldn't be there." 

"Amazing," Leo said, placing the paper down. "Now, Mr. President, about…"

"You know," Bartlet ignored Leo, "I'm reminded of what Daniel Webster wrote: _'Men hang out their signs indicative of their respective trades; shoemakers hang out a gigantic shoe; jewelers a monster watch, and the dentist hangs out a gold tooth; but in the mountains of New Hampshire, God Almighty has hung out a sign to show that there He makes men.'_"

"Yes, sir."

"Millions of tourists visited Franconia," he continued. "Right there above the interstate, he stood watching over us." 

"Yes, sir," Leo repeated. 

"You know that they're having a memorial service for him," the President pointed out. "I should send a letter--like a sympathy card but nothing that tacky." 

"Sure, something tasteful like: _Sorry your rocks fell down_," Leo said dryly.

"I'm hearing more sarcasm than sympathy, Leo," Bartlet chastized. 

Leo sighed. "Sir, while this is indeed a sad day for you and the State of New Hampshire—and by extension everyone who has to speak with you--I really must suggest that we handle the real matters of, you know, the nation right now." 

"I'm not still not sensing remorse, Leo," Bartlet warned. 

"Good because I'd hate to think I was going to shed tears over fallen rocks," Leo offered. "What's done is done and they want to fix it, right? They'll slap some plaster of Paris up there, and it will be as obtuse as new. You can compose your letter after lunch." 

Bartlet stared at his Chief. "Leo, are you saying that I shouldn't care about what's going on in my state? I'm the President of the United States; I should care about not only my state, but every state." 

"And I'm certain you do," Leo answered. "This landmark's collapse was, I guess the word I'm looking for here is tragic--yes--but it's not going to halt people from touring the state. And I wish the people of the White Mountains well in whatever they decide to do with their rubble. However, we have to talk about the nominations for the 7th Circuit, the upcoming trip to Germany and the revamping of HR 279." 

"Yeah, you're right, but I don't have to like it," Bartlet conceded. "For the rest of the day, I'm not going to like you either." 

"I'll learn to live with that," Leo nodded.

*****************

_Communication's Bullpen _

_Monday, 7:39 a.m._

"I simply don't believe this," Toby grumbled as he made his way towards his office. "Can you believe this Bonnie?" 

"No," Bonnie replied. "Believe what?" 

"Hell is freezing over," the speechwriter stated. "Moreover, I'm in it. I am living in hell. Five years I've been at this job and there were times where people have told me to go to hell, but I never thought I was actually in it." 

Sam stepped out of his office. "Hey, can I talk to you?" 

"You are talking to me," Toby said curtly. 

"Yeah, there was a change in the schedule," Sam said. "I'm staffing the President today." 

"Because Josh is on vacation," Toby added. "This is not a change." 

"Well, it is because Josh wasn't going on vacation," Sam explained. "What's going on? When you just came in?" 

Toby tossed a newspaper towards his deputy. "Read the highlighted part." 

"Okay," Sam said as he pulled his glasses from his shirt pocket. He began perusing the article. "Well…that's, uh, that's rather…" 

"It's ludicrous!" Toby fumed. "He's making it sound like he single-handedly won this election for us." 

Sam nodded. "Yes, well…you know how Congressman Murphy can be." 

"A pain in the ass," Toby grumbled. 

"I was going for grandiose, but okay," Sam continued to read aloud the article in question. "'_I knew it in my heart that the people of Georgia wanted me to vote for Bartlet…'" _

"That's _President Bartlet," Toby said succinctly. _

"'_And once my vote was cast, I was certain that my fellow Congressmen would vote their hearts as well as the will of the People,'_" Sam concluded. 

"Check Josh's wall," Toby snarled. "Murphy wasn't with us. Check it." 

"Well, I would except that was five months ago and he's sort of picked up things since then," Sam informed Toby. 

"Oh," Toby remarked. "Well, we have notes, right? Check those. And didn't we… I mean, there's an article somewhere, I'm sure, and it shows that Murphy wasn't ours. Georgia didn't even end up in our column." 

"I know this," Sam said. "I'm not sure why you're blaming me for it, though." 

"Because you're here!" 

"That seems unreasonable and rash," Sam said understandingly as he nodded. 

"Yeah," Toby sighed. "What was that about Josh and vacation?" 

"He was going to cancel his vacation," Sam explained. "So I wasn't going to staff the President this week." 

"But you're staffing him again?"

"Yeah." 

"So he left?" 

"Apparently," Sam nodded. 

"I needed this briefing why again?" 

"You were in California with the union thing over the weekend and I thought I would keep you in the loop," Sam said. 

"Thanks," Toby sighed. "Murphy's on Capital Beat tonight?" 

"Yeah," Sam said. "I should go. The Ag. Secretary is coming in…." 

"For the thing," Toby nodded. "Don't let him argue about new subsidies." 

"That's the only reason I'm there," Sam said as he turned to leave. 

"Anything else?" 

"Just that I have no proof, but I think Josh quit." 

"Okay," Toby said and sat in his chair as Sam departed. 

Toby started to reread the article in front of him then stopped. He looked up then yelled. 

"Sam!" 

***************** 

_Athens, Greece _

_Monday, 7:58 p.m. _

Donna had arrived at the theater in the car sent by Mark. She had received a message from Josh to take the car and meet Mark in the lobby. She was curious as to why but saw no reason not to follow the direction. After meeting Mark, she casually observed the other patrons waiting in the lobby during the cocktail hour before the ballet was to begin. She kept an eye on the door.

"Looking for something special?" he asked noticing her interest on the doorway.

"Just wondering when Josh would be getting here," Donna said mildly. 

"I'm not sure when he's arriving," Mark said casually as he lifted two glasses of champagne from a passing porter. "He said he had a thing."

"A thing?"

"Yes," Mark said, handing her one glass. "I've noticed that Josh isn't found of informative nouns. I always recall him as being someone with a vocabulary. When did that change?"

"Before I met him," she sighed, watching the bubbles creep up the sides of the glass. "He pawned me off on you, didn't he?"

"Would you rather return to your hotel?" Mark asked. "I can..."

"No, I want to see this," she said. "I just thought that he... Well, since we're here that he'd want to... I don't know why I thought that. Josh never goes anywhere with me; I mean, unless its for work purposes. Apparently that holds true no matter what country we're in."

"I've always known he was a sorry excuse for a gentleman" Mark assured her as the lights in the hall were flicked on and off three times.. "He's just not civilized enough, but I like him anyway. I've never quite figured out why though. Well, that's our cue to be seated. Best to forget about Josh for now. He'll be along eventually."

Donna nodded and resolved to enjoy the performance despite being sent away by Josh. His behavior was erratic and disconcerting. He flew her half way across the world to spend time with her, yet he was still maintaining his own room and made no move to change that set up. He was aloof in discussions at times and the look in his eyes said he was fixed on something more important than sightseeing. It gave Donna a queasy feeling in her stomach if she thought about it too long. So, rather than ruin her entire evening with worry, she settled into her seat as the lights in the theater dimmed and the orchestra began to play the dancers onto the stage.

By the intermission, she had nearly forgotten Josh was not there. By the end of the performance, she no longer cared. After three curtain calls, the audience departed the theater. Donna felt like she was floating. She was so entranced by the performance that she did not notice Mark bid her good night and depart. She was mildly surprised to find Josh standing beside her and directing her to the car he had waiting.

"Oh, you did show up," Donna smiled.

"Disappointed?"

"Actually, I don't really care," she said warmly.

"I'm sorry?"

"I meant that but not...," she said flustered. "I'm glad you're here, but it was fine without you. I was just thinking that, as I entered the lobby. See, at first I was mad you weren't here. Then, after a little while, I was glad you weren't. You would have ruined this for me."

"I would?"

"The moment you realized there would be no rebuttal period or that no one had bats or would through out an opening pitch," she said confidently as she climbed into the car. She paused while Josh ordered the driver to return to the hotel. "You wouldn't have enjoyed the ballet for one second. You would have sat there every second waiting for it to be over, and I would have known that and it would have bothered me. Without you, I didn't have to worry about that. I loved every second of it; I didn't want it to end. Once I realized that, I was glad you weren't there."

"Thanks," Josh said, mildly dejected.

"No, thank you," Donna beamed to reassure him. "This was good. It reminded me of something. We don't like the same things."

"We don't?"

"Not always," she said easily. "It's nice to remember that I can do something I liked without you and still enjoy it. That means a lot to me. I had kind of forgotten that that is how it should be."

"Okay," Josh said warily. "I think."

"So are you all done with whatever?"

"Whatever?"

"Yes, whatever it is that kept you away from here," Donna answered. "I'm guessing it was a marathon call to Sam or Leo. Did you commandeer someone's office at the embassy or did you run up a three thousand dollar phone bill at the hotel?"

"Do you care?"

"Not especially," she shrugged. "I like Mark."

"You do?"

"Yes," she grinned, thinking of the proper way he bowed and kissed her hand. "He's very suave."

"It's an act," Josh said flatly. "This is the same guy I watched scale the wall of a freshmen dorm wearing women's underwear on his head at 10 in the morning."

"Why were you watching?"

"I'm the one who bet he couldn't or wouldn't do it," Josh said as though the answer should be obvious. "Best ten bucks I ever lost."

*****************

_The White House_

_1:30 p.m. Monday_

_CJ Cregg's Office_

CJ tossed the remnants of her salad into the trashcan and started reading her phone messages. Before she was half way through the stack, she was startled by Sam's voice. He entered the office without knocking and began speaking without preamble.

"So I've been mulling this whole thing over," he announced as he took a seat on her sofa, uninvited.

"You have?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Here's what I think. There's something going on."

"With what?"

"With Josh and Leo," Sam said affirmatively. "I told Toby how I thought that Josh resigned."

"Like you told me this morning and I asked Leo who shook his head and rolled his eyes," CJ answered. "Since I didn't make any announcements from the podium and no one asked me about it otherwise, I think it's safe to say Josh going on vacation isn't the same as Josh resigning."

"That's the thing," Sam replied.

"What thing and before you answer, let me request you not speak to anyone at all for the rest of the day if possible because I'm not sure you're ready for adult conversation today," CJ said with a tight expression.

"Leo was mad," Sam informed her. "He might not be saying anything right now, but he was mad on Saturday. He was mad at Josh. I thought it was because he didn't like the education report and I was fine with that until I remembered that I wrote it mostly. Then I was hoping he thought Josh wrote it. Then I recalled that he hadn't read the report because I was still polishing it. So, you know where that left me?"

"Talking to yourself on the Metro?"

"With a suspicion," Sam continued oblivious to her jab. "Leo was mad at Josh. I don't mean his typical '_Josh are you nuts_' kind of mad, which isn't really mad it's just Leo being frustrated with Josh but at the same time being kind of impressed by him no matter what he's done. Which is kind of nice sometimes and I wished that I..."

"Sam. you're drifting into shallow water," CJ informed him.

"Right," he nodded, getting back on track. "Leo was mad. The worried kind of mad. The kind we haven't really seen from him since, you know, the whole thing with the guy and the plane."

"So?" CJ interupted. "He's the Chief of Staff. He's got things on his mind."

"He was looking for Josh and couldn't find him," Sam said.

"Which would explain the anger," CJ simplified. "It's nothing, Sam. They'll kiss and make up when Josh comes back from South Carolina. Maybe he'll bring Leo a T-shirt or a key chain."

"But I'm wondering if maybe it was a front," Sam continued. "Like a cover up to make me think he was mad Josh was on vacation. What if Josh isn't vacation?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure what I mean, but he left his pager and his phone on his desk," Sam said. "Charlie allegedly delivered some note to Leo. Margaret said Leo tried to call Josh's mother."

"You think something happened to him?" CJ asked with concern.

"I don't know," Sam replied. "I was thinking more that he was doing something that we're not supposed to know about and had done some part of it without telling Leo. I mean, Josh is on the inside of things pretty often. I don't know that there's a thing going on, but maybe he does. So you've got to wonder, what could it be? Usually we're aware, at least, that there's a thing out there. This time, I didn't know there was a thing. But if there is an none of us know it, we probably shouldn't be talking about it."

"That's the most logical thing you've said yet," CJ sighed.

"But now I'm thinking you might be right," Sam offered. "What it there's something wrong with Josh? He wasn't looking all that great the last week or two. I don't think he was sleeping much. He seemed... not himself. Kind of depressed. Josh doesn't get depressed though."

"Everyone gets depressed," CJ argued.

"Not Josh," Sam countered. "CJ, I've known him a lot longer than you. I've worked with him and seen him during the worst parts of his adult life. Even after the shooting, he didn't get depressed. The guy walks around believing he's living on borrowed time. That makes him slightly neurotic about some things, but he doesn't get depressed. So what was it this time? Something bad. It would have to be."

"Don't worry about it, Sam," CJ shook her head. "Toby and I spoke to Leo this morning, and he said that he had nothing to say about Josh. That's good enough for me."

"There's a flaw," Sam announced, still wrapped in his own discourse. 

"Just one?"

"Leo didn't know where he went," Sam said, recalling that part of his Saturday. "He was looking for Josh and asked me to find him. He didn't know where to begin looking."

"Asking Donna's usually a good start."

"Can't," Sam shook his head. "She's gone to Pennsylvania to visit a cousin or something. When Josh scheduled his vacation, she figured it was the only time she'd get the chance to not be here so she made arrangements. There's this mall that has a shoes store where they...."

"Sam, how do you know any of that?" CJ asked amazed at the detail.

"She was a little blue all last week so Ginger suggested she take some time," Sam explained. "They got to talking and Donna mentioned about the shopping trip. I wasn't exactly eavesdropping. I was listening from my office."

"Where no one could see you?"

"I was just making sure she was okay," Sam said. "I think Donna finally realized that while I'm a great guy, I'm not her guy. She seemed to be taking it pretty hard. I sort of avoided her all week and I think that got the point across. I didn't like breaking her heart, but it had to be done. So when she was talking to Ginger, I felt bad. I wanted to console her, but I didn't want to give mixed signals so I just listened from afar."

CJ shook her head in amazement.

"Wow, are you deluded," she said finally. "Tell me something: Where are you on the Easter Bunny?"

"CJ...."

"No, Sam," she cut in. "Listen to me and believe me. Donna did not love you. She never did. If she thinks of you at all, it's as a friend. She had a boyfriend--one outside the office. She fell pretty hard for him, but he dumped her."

"Really?"

"Really," CJ nodded. "She told me about him. Well, not exactly told me, but I got the bare details. He was some guy who works in DC. I got the sense that he was new to the city; she indicated he was all gung-ho about the DNC and the President and he thinks I'm top drawer in the press room."

"Yeah, obvious novice," Sam nodded sagely and received a dagger glare from the Press Secretary.

"Whatever he is, he didn't sound like a big time politician to me," CJ recalled. "She never told me his name, but I got the feeling from her description and her expression that he wasn't ready to make their relationship public. I thought that maybe he was intimidated by where she worked. Either that or she was afraid Josh would scare the hell out of the guy and ruin things for her. Look, the only think I know for certain is that a few weeks ago she was so happy she was giddy. Then she came in to work one day and that was all gone. I could tell from her face that the louse had cast her aside. She took this one hard, Sam. This guy she actually loved."

Sam nodded, taking in her words.

"So she really didn't have a thing for me?" Sam asked. "Even a little?"

"Get over yourself and get out."

Sam departed sporting a puzzled expression. CJ was certain he was trying to figure out how Donna had not fallen madly in love with him. She was also sure he was going to search for further theories as to why Josh took vacation and didn't come into the office to working during that vacation.

Her own thoughts were stuck on Donna's mystery man.

_Who could he be? He's not anyone elected or even that high up working for someone elected. I'd have heard about that. I should have listened more closely when she was talking. Still, what I remember from Donna's sketchy description was that the guy sounded green, like an untainted idealist. Those don't last long in this town. Except maybe Toby. Or Sam, on occasion. But they 're only like that with certain subjects. _

_ Or maybe it's that Donna saw something in this guy that other people don't see. That would makes sense. She's more apt to give someone the benefit of the doubt. God knows she's fallen for enough conservative Republicans. It's like her loyalty to Josh. I mean, talk about seeing a diamond in the rough; I like the guy well enough, but I could never work for him. But Donna? Even at his demonic worse, she'd argue why he was almost a saint._

_ Carol said they weren't talking last week. I hope for his sake that he wasn't a part of her break-up. If he ruined this for her, she might never forgive him. That would probably kill him. He's more fond of her than he even knows. But he had his own thing going on.... Unless he ruined that--which is likely because he never keeps anyone for that long. Now, if his love life when down the drain, there's a chance he'd have done is overbearing boss from Hell bit and.... _

_ Strange, though. Both of them being gone. I know he's been planning this vacation for two months, but.... Sam did say Josh told him he had canceled his golfing trip. His deputies say he's on vacation as far as they know. Donna is gone, too..._

_ Interesting. What if they..._

_ No. Now, I'm thinking like Sam._

_ But it.... Well, not that it makes sense, but it sort of tracks. I mean, what if they both had these bad break-ups and decided to... Commiserate together? That's... No, Josh always suffers alone--has all his life. He never shares with anyone when he's feeling like that. Unless, Donna somehow talked him into.... She does have a way of getting through to him. So maybe...._

"CJ," Carol called as she entered the room. "You're up in two minutes. The two o'clock briefing, remember?"

"Right," she said, grateful for the interruption. "Do me a favor. Don't let me sit and think along for the rest of the day, okay?"

*****************

_Washington, DC _

_Monday evening_

_Communications Bullpen_

"In his own little world, yes," Toby replied. 

"Tell me again why we have Congress?" Sam asked rhetorically, as Congressman Murphy continued his self-aggrandizing interview. "With Murphy around, it's amazing we need anyone else to run the country." 

Toby rolled his eyes at Sam then turned up the volume on one of the televisions. 

"So you're basically saying, Congressman, that you were the principal player in getting the President reelected," Mark Gottfried questioned. 

"Now, Mark," Murphy chuckled, "I wouldn't say I was the _principal_ player. The people of the great state of Georgia are the principal players here. And I voted the way they wanted me to." 

"We lost Georgia," Sam pointed out. 

"The President lost Georgia in the general election," Mark repeated. "It seems to me that they, in fact, did not want to vote for the President." 

"Not every person voted," the Congressman explained. "And it truly was a shame. We, as the Democratic Party, should do more to encourage everyone—whites, blacks, all people to vote. And that will be one of my personal agendas during the upcoming months." 

"You shouldn't be a member of the Democratic Party!" Toby yelled. "You're a schmuck!" 

"Congressman," Gottfried continued. "You've broached the subject of race. Reading in this morning's paper I see that there is a report out of your district that several high schools will hold two proms this year – one integrated and one that is for white students only. Do you think that that is a step backwards to segregation?" 

The Congressman paused. "Let me tell you this, Mark. The Federal government should not get involved in a situation such as this."

"Please no," Toby sighed and rubbed his forehead while the Congressman answered.

"This is up to the local school board," Murphy continued. "If they want to have two separate proms, then who am I to question such a thing?" 

"Oh god," Sam groaned. "Don't go there, Congressman. Ginger, find CJ. Now." 

"Congressman," Gottfried pressed. "The _Atlanta Journal-Constitution_ is quoting one student as saying 'There will be blacks at this prom—they gotta have somebody to serve the food.' What are your thoughts on that?" 

"No," Toby pleaded to the screen. "You redneck, half-wit. Do not....." 

"He's not wrong," the Congressman stated simply before Toby could will him to shut up. 

"Someone get Leo," Toby said in a stern and strained voice. "Quickly." 

****************

_Athens, Greece _

_Tuesday morning_

Josh and Donna leisurely strolled along the sidewalk of their hotel. She was told this morning that they were going to eat breakfast at a nearby café that came highly recommended by Mark's mother. It was late enough in the morning that the residents had already partaken in their daily morning routine, leaving it open to the tourists. The hostess guided them to a quaint table outside.

Josh began to find something suitable to his taste to eat, while Donna marveled and the plethora of choices available.

"What's good here?" she wondered out loud. "Oh, I see strawberries. Crepes? They have crepes?"

"It's legal to serve them outside of France," Josh responded.

"I know that," she replied tartly. "I happen to love crepes."

"They're anorexic pancakes," he commented. He received a look that matched her previous tone. "Fine. One word of warning, coffee in this country is lethal."

"Strong?"

"It can strip the patina off the Statue of Liberty," he said. "I'd recommend tea."

They ordered and Donna read the map provided by the concierge to see where they were going. The vineyard was not that long of a drive outside the city. A trip to the vineyard and a mysterious social outing in the evening? Her basic question from the plane remained unanswered. She tried a new tactic in her search for answers: asking.

"Josh," she asked abruptly. "Why are we here?"

"We're eating breakfast," he informed her as he slid his sunglasses on and scanned the newspaper the waiter had brought.

"I didn't mean the I," she countered. "I meant here."

"Is this a philosophical thing because we're in Greece?" 

"No, I'm not pondering the great question of existence," she answered. "I meant why did you bring me to Athens?"

He shrugged.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," he replied as he continued to read. 

"I meant..."

"You said you wanted a break and wanted to get away from Washington," Josh cut her off. 

"When did I say that?"

"All those times you didn't think I was listening," he replied. "So, here you go. This is away. And before the interrogation starts again, Athens literally was first place that popped up when I did the ticket search. It was an alphabetical thing—mystery solved. Well, that and since I knew Mark was stationed here, I figured he could score tickets to something if you wanted to see a show or whatever. He does things."

"I'm guessing since you keep saying that..."

"Saying what?"

"Mark _does things_," she answered. "I'm guessing it's part of some inside joke that I don't care to know."

"Safe bet," Josh nodded confidently with the hint of a smirk.

"Well, whatever your reason was for choosing here, I thank you," Donna said gratefully. "I would never have thought of coming here, but I'm glad you did."

"This is my way of... thanking you for the countless thankless things you've done for me for so long," Josh said mildly. "Don't feel like you have to run around and play tourist. If you don't want to...."

"Can we see the Parthenon? The Acropolis?" Donna asked. "I mean, up close. I know Mark said they're tourist traps and over crowded, but I don't care. Can we see them tomorrow?"

Josh hesitated before answering. She didn't like the furrow in his brow. He had other plans or didn't want to go to such places. Then, as if resolving some inner debate, his expression changed suddenly. She suspected he intended to pass her off to one of Mark's minions while he claimed rights to some office in the Embassy to get back to work.

"Before we leave, we'll go," he said simply.

"What about the beach?" she asked. "We're right by the coast. I can't not go to the beach."

"That's another day," he said. 

"It is?" she asked suspiciously. She never liked Josh withholding information from her, though she knew in his professional capacity it was a necessity at times. 

"Yeah," he said as the waiter arrived with their breakfast. "Now eat your pathetic pancakes."

  
*****************

_Washington, DC_

_8 hours later_

CJ sat at her desk and began to comb through the mountain of memos, reports and transcripts that Carol had placed there throughout the day. The first few were uneventful—a memo regarding the upcoming Easter activities and a report about consumer confidence. The transcript, which Carol had highlighted green and wrote "Must Read," caught her eye. It was a transcript from a local Mississippi radio show with Representative Kevin Maskell (_R-Miss_), chairman of the House Rules Committee. 

**Interviewer**: There has recently been a lot of talk about the comments made by Congressman Darren Murphy of Georgia. What is your reaction?

**_Maskell_**_: The Congressman is entitled to his opinion, no matter how misguided it is. For years the Republican Party as been the one shackled with allegations of racism. Perhaps that was true at one time, but no more. We are intelligent and fair-minded. To malign my Party with this only stereotype is no different than assuming that Mr. Murphy's bigoted opinion is one shared by Southerner's in general. I would hope that those in the rest of the country and now see what we here in South have known for years that here in the south—the new south—we are no more backward than President Bartlet's merry men._

**_Interviewer_**_: By merry men you mean who precisely?_

**_Maskell_**_: I mean no disrespect to the ladies on his staff—they were included in my comment generally. Not a true southern among any of them, I might add. I was, however, referring specifically to the individuals who—unlike Mr. Murphy—were the real force behind the President's re-election. They're Yankees so sometimes their names escape me. But mark my words; the DNC is now certainly scrambling behind the scenes to wipe this dirt kicked up by Democratic Congressman Murphy off of their faces. The Democratic Party's tactics are like a textbook. They'll be shoring up their investors—for they are in the pocket of most of Hollywood and all things that claim to be liberal. At the same time, they need some political action on behalf of the White House. I know these people and I am certain that they send out the Jewish Wonder Twins to make it all kosher again for their friends. One will be on the Hill doing his henchman act to keep his people in line, and the other one will be scribbling into the wee hours making sure every ever Democrat in the District has only pretty things to say and makes damn sure they all keep their distances from the unfortunate Mr. Murphy._

"I… I…," Toby stammered as he read the transcript CJ had handed him. 

"That's about where I was 10 minutes ago," she said, taking the pages from him and handing them to Will Bailey, the newest writer on the speech staff. "McAuliffe made sure the wires had this an hour ago." 

"You're just showing it to me now?" Toby growled. 

"I just got it 10 minutes ago," CJ assured him. 

"Where's the President?" Will asked as he read the transcript. 

"Behind closed doors the rest of the day," CJ replied. "Sam is staffing him. It's a full schedule." 

"He's nowhere near the press the rest of the day?" Will asked. 

"Not unless they storm the Oval Office," Toby sighed. 

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure Ron Butterfield's guys have that under control," CJ responded. "I suppose it goes without saying; we keep this away from the President." 

"You think?" Toby snapped. 

"Hey, I didn't say this," she reminded him. "So, what's our comment?" 

"Our comment?" Toby repeated. 

"I think she's right," Will offered. "We need to say something." 

"Well, thank you for that," Toby said. "I just entered politics six minutes ago and wasn't sure what play to call here!" 

"People under estimate your sense of humor," Will said. 

"Give me that," Toby said, snatching the pages from Will's fingers. "Maskell really said that?" 

"Yeah," CJ said flatly. "Can I tell you how surprised was I to find out that you and Josh are like closet superheroes?" 

"Where is Josh?" Will asked. 

"Vacation," CJ said. 

"Not for long," Toby replied. "He's gonna see this and…." 

"I don't think so," CJ disagreed. "He's playing golf." 

"And that means what?" Will asked. 

"I don't know," CJ shrugged. "It just seems that every man I know who plays golf doesn't let anything interrupt him." 

"Those are, you know, normal men with regular and exceedingly unimportant jobs," Toby snarled. "Mark my words, Josh will not…. He'll be on my phone in half an hour with about 90 suggestions and an ETA for returning in under four hours." 

"You know this for certain because?" CJ asked. 

"Because this," Toby replied slapping at the pages on his desk, "deserves no less, and I know Josh." 

"So you really do have Wonder Powers?" Will ventured. 

"Next time Sam goes for his sissy coffee, I want him to take you and leave you there," Toby replied as he looked at his watch and then his phone. Twenty-nine minutes, he thought.

**************** 

_Athens_

_11pm_

The lights of the city twinkled like miniature diamonds in the midnight blue sky. Donna and Josh had just finished an after dinner drink with Mark and were preparing to leave the club.

"How far are we from the hotel?" she asked.

"Uh, less than a mile or so."

"Can we just walk back instead of getting a cab?" she asked. "It's such a beautiful night and Mark said it's safe here."

"You sure?" Josh asked. "I mean about wanting to walk? I don't care if... Never mind. Let's go."

Donna looped her arm through Josh's as they headed in the direction of the hotel. The streets were still filled with people, due primarily to a world cultural festival that was taking place that week in this district of the city. Cites, sounds and smells of various backgrounds filled the air. Josh took the scene in with a passive expression. Donna noted that it was the same guardedly blank expression had had been sporting for the last three days. It concerned her in that it meant there was something troubling him but he wasn't prepared to discuss it. That, coupled with the distance she felt he was putting between them bothered her. She vowed she would take a crack at ending that this evening.

"Beautiful night," she said to start conversation.

"Huh?"

"My shoes are on fire," she offered.

"What?" Josh asked as he turned to look at her. "Oh, funny."

"Thank you," she smiled easier and shivered unconsciously.

"Are you cold?"

"No, I'm fine," she replied. "The wind just picked up, that's all."

Josh took off his coat and draped it over her arms. She pulled the fabric around her and inhaled the familiar scent. She slipped her hand into his and made simple conversation about the evening. Josh had little to add. His aloof demeanor seemed to get stronger as the night continued. Donna was not sure what game he was playing or what scheme he was hatching, but she did not like it. She didn't think it was punishment for the cold way she treated him when they were in DC a week prior, but it felt that way all the same. She was determined that this night would be the last she would see such behavior. She was going to turn on what she thought of as her Miami charm to set things right again. She formed a simple plan as they walked to the hotel.

"We're here," he informed her as they arrived at the front of the hotel. They entered and waited for the elevator.

So many questions were swimming inside Donna's mind that she didn't know which to ask first, if any. The elevator stopped and Josh escorted Donna to her room.

"Okay," Josh began. "Meet me in the terrace cafe tomorrow around 10 a.m."

"Oh, you're... going?" Donna sighed strategically. "Now?"

"Yeah," he answered casually. "Why?"

"I don't know," she said grinning coyly as she leaned toward him and ran her hand along the buttons of his shirt. "I thought that maybe you might want to.... come in for a while."

"No, I really should go," Josh said, stepping back and retrieving his jacket from her. "You should get some sleep. Good night, Donna."

Donna's lips trembled as he walked away. Donna lowered her head in defeat and let herself into her room. He had turned her down twice since their arrival in this foreign land. She wasn't altogether certain what it meant, but all of the possibilities saddened her.

**************** 

_Midnight_

_The White House_

The Chief of Staff took off his glasses and rubbed a hand over his weary eyes. The everyday circus antics of Congress were keeping the story of Congressmen with loose lips on both sides of the political spectrum on the back burner for some news organizations, but he knew that was only a matter of time. A host of African-American groups were flaying the reputation of the Democrat's fool while a new and powerful voice was descending upon his Republican counterpart. Rabbi David Schulman was proving to be an articulate and popular pundit in this debacle. So far, the White House had sidestepped commenting. 

However, polls were showing a growing general public interest in both Congressmen Murphy's and Maskell's comments. The White House's "no comment" stance would not hold much longer. To that end, Sam was working on the President's response to Murphy's comments. Toby had opted to hand Maskell's debacle to Will Bailey--for now. The Communication's Director seemed at a loss, staring at phones for the last day or more, expecting a call that would not come, Leo was regrettably sure. 

"Kids these days," the President remarked dryly as he poked his head into Leo's office. 

"Mr. President," Leo greeted him, buttoning his jacket as he stood. "In case you're curious, no one on staff has figured out a way to say that our two news makers are just what they appear to be: idiots." 

"I can't tell you how reassuring I find that," Bartlet remarked. 

"I still can't believe in this day that we have two guys that stupid elected to that office," Leo shook his head. "You'd kind of think the body politic would have digested them already. They've got 30 years of service between them." 

"Even the prince of darkness appears to be a gentleman," Bartlet quoted. 

"Yeah," Leo said flatly, not looking for a discussion based in literary quotes. "I thought you'd gone to bed." 

"I did, but I thought Abbey might want to see this passage Charlie quoted to me from Thomas Jefferson about the rights of women," Bartlet said, gesturing to the book in his hand. 

"You started a fight with her and said something sexist?" 

"Well, that's her version," Bartlet sighed. "When Charlie said it to me, I didn't think it was worthy of a tongue lashing or being called sexist." 

"You've never had Charlie's finesse," Leo said. 

"I suppose not," Bartlet agreed. "I was just thinking, this isn't even my book. If I had given it to the person I intended it for, this never would have happened. If you want to blame Josh for something, you can use this. I intend to." 

"Sir?" 

"I got this book for him after the election, but I never seem to give it to him," Bartlet explained. "He always changes the subject before I get around to giving it to him. He's fond of Jefferson for some rather obtuse reasons and I thought this volume might be appreciated. 

"What I meant was why do you think I'm blaming Josh for anything right now?" Leo asked. 

"Well, that is what you're doing, isn't it?" Bartlet asked, taking a seat. "You're stewing about Josh. Don't say you're not. I know that look. That's your Josh is vexing me look. It's different from the one you have for Sam or CJ or Margaret or me, for that matter." 

"He picked the worst week to fly the coop on me," Leo admitted. 

"There's never a good week," the President offered. "I know there is work to be done, but you're bothered more by the fact that...." 

"That he resigned?" Leo said, completing the sentence first. "It does lack a certain dedication to the job, Mr. President." 

"Well, there's that," Bartlet relented. "But I was going to say that you're bothered because you're worried about him--his well-being." 

"Josh always worries me." 

"That's not what I meant," Bartlet said. "Tell me something. What was his father like? I've heard about him from Josh, and it's that father worship that every father loves to hear. But what was he like?" 

"Noah?" Leo began, as he took a seat and allowed himself a brief smile in honor of his old friend. "He was a demon in the court room. Of all the lawsuits filed in this country--criminal and civil--fewer than 10 percent end up in a court room. To be a litigator--a full-time litigator--is like being a hired gun; the best of the best. And he fit the part. When he was in a court room, he was like nothing you've ever seen. He was like living fire." 

"That's not the picture I get from Josh," Bartlet remarked. 

"I doubt he ever cross examined Josh," Leo chuckled. "That was the one thing that... Most guys are proud of their family, but with Noah was like kryptonite. He'd be in the middle of telling you about his latest case and I'd ask, _Hey how's Anna and the kid?_ Quicker than you can blink he had his wallet out and would be telling you about the last report card or that he had two RBI's in his first game of the season. He was a completely different guy. Just as likable--more so actually--but someone else entirely. The law was his passion, but Anna and Josh--they were his life, his world." 

"You were good friends?" 

"Yeah," Leo said. "We didn't see each other much after I left New York, but we kept in touch. Actually, the last time I spoke to him was about two weeks before he died. I called to... I don't know why I called him anymore." 

"You wanted to tell him that his boy was doing well," Bartlet said. "Josh gave up a lot to come work for us; he gave up the chance to have this office for himself. You wanted his father to know it wasn't a mistake to pull him away from that." 

"I'm beginning to wonder," Leo scoffed. 

"He's fine, Leo," Bartlet assured him. "He's just like his father. He's living fire when he's doing this job. The difference is that he doesn't have a wallet of photos to escape to when he needs a break. Now, I'll leave it up to you to decide what happens when he returns, but set your mind at ease, old friend. He will be back." 

***************** 

_Athens_

_Wednesday, 10 a.m._

Donna woke early with the same knot in her stomach that appeared there when Josh said good night. There was something in his eyes that told her he had come to some decision. That he didn't even entertain her invitation to come to her room was a telling factor. She knew what he was thinking and knew what he decided. She dressed and slowly made her way to the cafe as ordered. She was going to take this in stride and not cause a scene. They were shown to a table in the sunshine and ordered--not that she had any appetite. So, rather that let the agony drag on, she started the discussion. 

"I believe there is something we need to discuss," Donna said, her throat tight.

"Actually, I need to be honest with you now," Josh said. "My motives in bringing you here were not what you might call entirely altruistic."

"I see," she said calmly.

"This is not precisely a quid pro quo, but I need... I want you to agree to something."

"No, Josh."

"No?" he repeated. "You don't even know what I'm going to say."

"I don't care," she said, no longer able to keep her tone calm. "I should have known! I should have known you wouldn't do this without some ulterior motive."

"That's right," he agreed readily. "Hear me out."

"I don't want to hear it," she said, folding her arms and turning her eyes away from him.

"Donna, you were right," he said. "We couldn't go on like we were before; the whole office/affair thing… Well, I was thinking about it before we left the US and... Look, there isn't going to be an _office_ forever so it stands to reason that…"

"Do you know that your entire personal life is a hypothetical situation?" she observed in a nasty tone. "You float ideas and do test studies, but that's all. I can't believe you dragged me across an ocean so you could break up with me again, but in a more civilized fashion. Is it going to make you feel better? 'Cause I've got to say, it's doing nothing for me."

"I didn't want to..."

" I've discovered something about you, Josh," she interrupted. "For you, it really is a fine line between being very smart and very stupid some days. Today, you are on the stupid side of the like if you think this trip was a civilized, neat, efficient way to end this."

"Did you just say my personal life is hypothetical?" he mused, sounding impressed by the description. "This whole thing was hypothetical?"

"Apparently," she said in flat tones. "You just ruined what was turning into the greatest week of my life."

"How?"

"Well, you're trying to tell me that you meant what you said in your apartment and that don't want to date me anymore," she said.

"That's not entirely true," he said.

"What part's not right?"

"Well, I was a little harsh what I said to you that day," he shrugged.

"But you still don't want to date me," she added, the anger in her growing.

"I hope I don't have to," he nodded.

She stared at him blankly, unable to form an expression. She was appalled by what he said. She was hurt and enraged by the bored tone in his voice. In return, he offered her his contemplative look, the one he normally sported just before his self-described brilliant ideas usually tumbled over his lips.

"What am I supposed to say to that," she asked slowly.

"Say you'll marry me," he offered.

"You're not being helpful," she said through clenched teeth as she considered throwing something at him.

"You're not answering me," he countered.

"You haven't asked me anything," she pointed out.

He thought for a moment, running the conversation over in his mind. He then nodded. Donna was right. He hadn't.

"It was implied," he hedged. "I did make a request. Though it was couched as a suggestion in a declarative construction, it was, nonetheless, interrogative in nature."

"Have you been spending a lot of time with Ainsley?"

"Donna!"

"I'm just saying that she does that kind of backwards, comma splice conversation stuff all the time," Donna said, no longer sure what the conversation was about. "I'm just saying."

"I want you to marry me, Donna," he said, placing a small, back velvet box on the table in front of her.

With a trembling hand, she opened the box and gazed at the sole occupant. The stone was as clear and bright as the sky above and shimmered like the lights in the city at night. She dared not touch it.

"What's the catch?" she asked suspiciously.

"See," he started, grateful she had asked. "Here's the thing...."

**Up next, Chapter 8:** _"**During Good Behavior"**_

  



	8. During Good Behavior

**Title**: **HEAVEN AND HELL, _"During Good Behavior" _**(Chapter Eight)  
**Authors: Enigmatic Ellie and Westwinger247**  
**Webpage: **  
**Notes**: _This is the sequel to THE QUEST. Thanks to those of you who followed us from one series to the next._

Josh sat in the dark government sedan as it cruised through the dusky streets of the Capital. He had received word on the plane that his presence was requested at the White House. The driver, a man he had never seen before, met him at the gate with a stony expression and ushered him to the car. 

Josh wasn't sure what waited for him. He wasn't even certain who had summoned him. Conventional wisdom held that it was the President. But the terse message and command, while within the President's repertoire of actions, felt more like a play called by Leo. Josh said nothing during the ride and tried not to rehearse an apology in his head. 

They arrived at the White House and passed through security without incident. This was an unusual route for Josh to enter the building. It was not the formal entrance used by dignitaries or heads of State. It was also not his typical path through the northwest lobby. 

He was met inside the door by a friendly face wearing a guarded expression.

"You're alone?" Charlie asked, looking at the departing car.

"Yeah," Josh said wearily. "It's... I mean, she didn't.... We're... uh.... Yeah. I'm alone."

"Oh," Charlie nodded. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Josh shook his head. "So, help me out here. Which one...."

"The President would like to see you," Charlie said as they started down the hall.

"Charlie, I need an appointment badge," Josh said, stopping in mid stride. "I don't...."

"Josh, the President is waiting," Charlie urged him.

Josh nodded then started walking again.

"I was sort of expecting to see Leo," he offered.

"You will," Charlie warned. "I hope you had a nice trip; this probably won't be pretty."

"Perfect end to the perfect week," Josh sighed.

*****************

_8:30 p.m._

_The White House_

Donna arrived at the office filled with curiosity. She had tried calling Josh's apartment for nearly an hour with no luck. It was then she realized that she had his keys. She had driven his car to her apartment from the airport. She thought he would have called had he returned home to find himself locked out. She had turned on CNN and found nothing drastically awry in the nation but headed to the office anyway to see what was keeping him or to find out if he was sitting in his office trying to remember where his keys were.

The halls were darkened and there were only a scattering of staffers about. She arrived at her desk to find the in-box overflowing--something that made her smile and wrinkle her nose in disgust in the same instant--and Josh's office dark. She stepped inside and surveyed the shaded room. Something was odd. The picture of Josh and his grandfather that had hung on the wall since their first day at the White House was laying on his desk. She checked the hook on the back to determine if it was damaged. Finding no problems, she returned it to its normal hanging spot. 

She stared at the picture for a moment. She had seen it hundreds of times, but it looked different to her now. It was the smile, she realized. There was something so innocent and happy in that smile. Josh rarely smiled like that. Nothing brought him that kind of overwhelming joy or that sense of intrinsic peace except...

Donna shivered and felt a tightness in her throat. She pressed her hand to her mouth and closed her eyes for a moment but was startled as the overhead light suddenly snapped on.

"Oh my god," she gasped pressing her hand to her heart.

"What are you doing here?" Josh asked with a puzzled expression.

"Who?"

"Who else is in here?"

"So you do mean me," she nodded, regaining her composure. "I was here and your picture must have fallen down and apparently gravitated 10 feet across the room to the desk, though I suppose someone picking it up after it fell makes more sense. The glass didn't break and that's a good thing."

"Donna?"

"Keys," she said, remembering her original mission.

"Keys?"

"Yes," she said, fishing them out of her purse. "I have your keys."

"I know," he nodded. "You took my car."

"Is anything wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"The President needed to see you," she said. "Is it.... Do you need me to..."

"To go home," he said. "Disaster averted."

"Oh," she sighed. "Well, that's good."

"Are you all right?"

"This... it's kind of awkward," she said hesitantly. "I... I feel... weird about everything." 

"It's regret," Josh said turning off the light and leading her out of the office.

"No, it's not," she said hurrying to catch up. "It's not that at all."

"It might be," he continued. 

*****************

Sam liked to walk the halls on quiet nights and read sections of the President's upcoming speeches to himself. The cadence of his pace spurred his thoughts and helped him pick up typos. He was in the middle of one of those excursions when he heard Josh and Donna's voices as they headed toward the lobby area. Their backs were to him as they made their way to the exit. Sam looked up and watched them as he slowed his pace.

"Since you seem to know everything," Donna was saying as she fell into step beside Josh, "what do I do about it?"

"Go home with me," Josh said matter-of-factly. "When you wake up tomorrow you'll see I'm right."

Sam's jaw dropped and he walked square into one of the carved columns buttressing and archway. 

"What was that?" Donna asked, hearing a muffled yelp.

"I didn't hear anything," Josh said without turning around. "Give me my keys. I'm driving."

*****************

_Josh's Apartment_

_Georgetown_

_9:45 p.m._

Josh looked at the clock and decided that he had stalled long enough. He sighed and sat on the couch before dialing the phone. He was not nervous to make the call. He knew he wanted to speak with his mother yet he was hesitant. She had a way of getting to him--not in a hostile or offensive way--but she could be emotional, and Josh never knew quite how to deal with that. All things considered, he knew this was going to be one of those difficult calls to make. He dialed slowly, but the phone rang promptly all the same. 

"Hello?" Anna Lyman answered, curious who would be calling her this late in the evening. 

"Guess what happened on my vacation?" Josh said without preamble. 

"Joshua!" his mother delighted to hear his voice. "I didn't expect a call from you. What's the special occasion?" 

Josh sighed and bit back a comment about buying her a hearing aid for Mother's Day as she had not listened to his question. He stopped himself for two reasons: He knew he did not call her often enough; and Donna was giving him a stern stare that threatened he would be sleeping the on couch if he let the words tumble over his lips. 

"I just returned from a week in Greece," he said, returning Donna's glare until her stony expression broke into a triumphant grin. 

"Greece?" Anna repeated. "As in the foreign country?"

"As far as I know, it's not one of our states, but like I said I was gone for a week," Josh said.

"Don't be impertinent, Darling," Anna scolded. "What were you doing there?" 

"Donna wanted to show off what she learned in a mythology class once upon a time," Josh replied. "There's a reason she didn't get a degree in Greek culture, by the way." 

"The President was in California last week and Idaho two days ago," Anna said, recalling the bits she saw in the evening news. "When did he go to Greece? I didn't see that on the news. What's going on?" 

"Nothing," Josh reassured her. "The President didn't go to Greece. I did... for vacation. I took Donna." 

Anna's words stuck in her throat. Her son had taken a vacation--one that did not involve golf or baseball--away from the office for seven days straight. The longest he ever left the White House without working was when he was recuperating, Anna recalled. That he had done so merely for pleasure and had taken Donna with him made her head spin. She sat down as her heart fluttered. 

"You did?" Anna remarked slowly. "Well, that's wonderful, darling, but.... Why? " 

"Well, here's the thing," he began. "I asked Donna to marry me; of course, she claims I didn't precisely ask because..." 

"That's because you didn't," Donna called from across the room. She rifled through the refrigerator looking for something to drink. 

"This is a private conversation," Josh shouted over his shoulder at her. 

"Joshua!" Anna scolded. "Please! Are you being serious or is this one of your non-funny jokes?" 

"I did ASK, in my own way," he asserted. "She's the one who said..." 

"You proposed?" Anna inquired, cutting off his rant, tears rising beneath her lids and a quiver evident in her hand as she gripped the phone. "What did she say?" 

It seemed a logical answer with Donna there bantering with him yet Anna Lyman knew too well her son's ability to still hold favor with women who no longer were part of his life. 

"What do you think she said?" Josh replied harshly. 

"I never know with you," Anna replied. "Thus the question..."

"She agreed," Josh said, biting back a snarl. Donna was smirking behind him, he could hear it and now his mother was going to start sort of crying and that was going to make him feel awkward and embarrassed. This was what he dreaded.

"Oh, darling!" Anna gasped. "This is wonderful. I'm so happy for you both. So tell me when do you plan..." 

"Hold on," Josh said, cutting her moment short. "Don't start thinking about a wedding in the future. There won't be one." 

"What?" Anna shouted. "Oh, Joshua! What did you do this time?" 

"Hey!" he retorted. "Why do you automatically think I did something wrong?" 

"Because she knows you," Donna said, taking the phone out of his hand. "Anna, hi.... No, nothing's wrong. Josh is just a very bad story teller. It's one of the reasons CJ likes to keep him out of the press room."

******************

_The White House_

_7:48 a.m. Monday_

Sam, the lump on his forehead from the previous evening covered by a lock of hair, walked purposefully toward the Operations Bullpen. As he did, he saw CJ approaching with her coffee in hand. He signaled to her to follow him. He was going to put an end to the vexing questions. 

"Man on a mission, are we?" she asked, falling into step beside him. 

"I heard something--a definite thing--last night," Sam said. "You're coming with me." 

"I'm walking in the same general directions," she offered. "I have an 8 a.m. meeting with Josh. Apparently he was rehired during the overnight hour." 

"Okay, so I was wrong about him resigning," Sam relented. "But this.... this, I know. I heard him." 

"Everyone can hear him," CJ remarked as they approached. Josh's voice could be heard due to slightly raised decibels behind the closed door of his office. "He's negotiating with his nice voice today, I presume." 

"Something about the Calloway and the Commerce Committee, I think," Sam replied. "But I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about the other thing. I told you what I heard." 

"Yes, you called me last night and sounded like a high school sophomore who caught the English teachers holding hands in the parking lot," she said. "What is your fascination about this?" 

"He's got to admit it," Sam continued as they arrived outside Josh's office. The shouting had diminished and no more noise could be heard. "We were all suspicious for a while now…" 

"You had this brain storm at 10 o'clock last night," CJ reminded him. 

"Right, but the deluge was quite something," Sam insisted. "Now, I know. He can't deny it; it would be ridiculous to try." 

"Have you asked him seriously?" CJ asked. 

"In fact, I did," Sam replied. "This morning, before he got into this thing with Calloway, I brought up the subject and…." 

"I mean, did you honestly ask him?" CJ cut in. "Or did you just make some snide comments and lace your conversation with innuendo? He's a politician and a lawyer, Sam. He spins his answers." 

"He's not a real lawyer," Sam persisted. "He has a law degree. That's not the same." 

"He dodged your questions," CJ said. 

"Not any more," Sam replied. "I'm going to get answers." 

"Why?" CJ asked. "What's the big deal? You heard him saying he was taking her home last night. It's hardly the first time they've left here together, and it's not illegal."

"So you don't think there's anything there?"

"What I think is irrelevant," CJ said. "I mean, yeah, I see that maybe there's.... That is, I was wondering if maybe they were... But the point is, it's none of my business."

"CJ."

"No, Sam, I've thought about this," CJ stopped him. "Okay, maybe, if there is something going on, it raises ethical questions since he's her boss, but that's really not something that worries me. The Washington press corps sees them and the way they are all week long and it's like background noise to them. No one cares and if anyone did care, it would be Leo's concern." 

"Leo's concern? I saw the First Lady talking to Donna earlier," Sam said adamantly. "They were in cahoots. I could tell. So, what I'm saying is that it's the principle of the thing." 

"What principle?" 

"The principle of... of... you tell your friends when you....," Sam huffed in a petulant tone. "I've known Josh a long time. He should tell me." 

"Maybe he didn't think it was any of your business," Toby said lowly, appearing beside them and joining the conversation. "And I really think accusing the First Lady of colluding with the Senior Assistant to the Deputy Chief of Staff in covering up what you think is an office love affair is not the kind of thing you want to do, Sam. It has the ring of a career limiting move." 

Instantly, Josh appeared in his doorway and glared across the bullpen. He shot a glance at Donna's empty desk. 

"What's going on?"

"Nothing," CJ said quickly--too quickly, she realized. "We were just...."

"Skulking?"

"No," Sam said. "This is... We were hoping we could speak with you about.... non-office, office things."

"Is this another attempt at an intervention?" Josh asked in a worried tone. "Sam, education and concern is a wonderful thing, but you really have to stop watching the Oxygen channel."

"Josh, it's not like that," Sam hedged uncomfortably.

"Really," he remarked then looked around the bullpen and saw practically no work being done. "Am I the only one who works here? As far as I know, this isn't a holiday. There are still many, many hours left in the working day." 

"Yes, imagine the damage we can do," Toby said. 

"Thank you, Toby," Josh said. "That's not exactly kind of attitude I was looking for, but it's a start. Hey, after I finished with Calloway, I got a hold of Greeley over in Senator Hannah's office about Calloway and his vote on the Transportation Bill." 

"Yes, I heard you using your compassionate voice," Toby remarked. "Do I need to mend some bridges or perhaps surrender?" 

"No," Josh beamed. "The Ethics Committee is holding a hearing next week on Maskell and Murphy and the Transportation Bill won't be marked up for three weeks." 

"Why?" Toby asked suspiciously. 

"And Appropriations will discuss the adult literacy package as requested," Josh tacked on rather than answer him. 

"Okay, I'll ask again--with greater interest and trepidation: Why?" Toby asked, sounding like he didn't particularly care about the cost of the maneuver. 

"Sometimes you have to say to hell with beautifying the New York subway," Josh nodded--leaving out most of the details, figuring Toby would follow the logic in the Cliff Notes version. "Especially if it causes great heartburn to the folks in Connecticut." 

"It scares me that I understand," Toby replied. "Jewish Wonder Twins, indeed."

"For the record, that comment itself didn't bother me," Josh said as an aside. "The sentiment it represented--yeah--but the actual words..."

"Yeah, me not so much either," Toby confessed through a sigh.

"And we don't even look alike," Josh continued. 

"You got that?"

"My mother confirmed it," Josh nodded. "But about the Transportation Bill, I'll take heat on this one. But the next time, it's all you."

"Fine," Toby shrugged. "I assume you won't be welcome in my hometown or yours for while." 

"People from Westport don't use the Subway," Josh said. 

"People from Brooklyn and the Bronx do," Toby countered. 

"Well, you just need to convince them that the graffiti is modern art," Josh said. 

"Yeah," Toby nodded. 

"Where's Donna?" Josh asked looking again at her empty desk. 

Sam shot a look at CJ then cleared his throat. 

"Speaking of Ms. Moss," Sam said. "When are you doing to admit it?" 

"Very smooth," CJ said lowly and patted Sam on the shoulder. 

"Admit what?" Josh asked mildly. 

"That you're having an affair," Sam said. "A secret one. With Donna, I mean."

"I'm not," Josh replied. 

"Not what?" 

"Either of those things," Josh answered. 

Sam placed a hand on Josh's shoulder to keep him from leaving the room. 

"Raise your right hand," Sam said. "I mean it, Josh. Raise your right hand." Josh rolled his eyes but raised his hand. "Good. In front of these witness, do you, Joshua Lyman, swear the answers you are about to give in this matter are the truth?" 

"Wow, are you having flashback or is it just me?" Josh asked. 

"Josh." 

"Sure, why not," Josh shrugged. "I swear." 

"Is Donna your assistant?" Sam asked. 

"Yeah." 

"We are talking about the same woman who sits at that very desk and has for every moment you worked in this office, correct?" 

"Correct," Josh said. "I see you've done your homework, Sam. That's very impressive. Can you bend spoons with your..." 

"Shut up," Sam scoffed. "Now, out with it. Are you or are you not having an... affair with Donna?" 

"Not," Josh said instantly and raised his hand again. "I'm not having an affair with Donna." 

"Oh," Sam said startled. "But she went home with you." 

"Is that a question?" Josh countered with a smirk. 

"No," Sam said stumped. 

"Good," Josh said. "I have another call to make. If you see Donna..." 

"I'm right here," she said breezing into the room. 

The glance that passed between them was brief but telling. Everyone in the room saw it, much as they had for years. The arguments were still heard; the exasperated comments; the irritated digs; and the simple conversations about life on the planet that passed between them daily. But there was something more now, something only evident in the quickest flick of their eyes. Sam saw it and growled. 

"You lied," Sam said. "I knew it. Josh! I can't believe it. I put you under oath, and you lied!" 

"Josh lied?" Donna asked stunned. "And you believed him? Someone's losing his touch." 

"Donna," Sam insisted.

"Well, he can't bluff to save his life so you've gotta wonder...," Donna started then paused as she surveyed the speech writer's exasperated expression. "Oh, all right. What did he say?" 

"I asked him....," Sam said, turning red. "I asked him a question in regard to certain.... arrangements that..... appear evident." 

"He asked if I was having an affair with you," Josh said bluntly.

"He did?" 

"Yeah." Josh nodded. 

"You said no?" she ventured, placing her hands on her hips. 

"Well, yeah," Josh answered. "We're not." 

She turned back to Sam and sighed. "Well, then he didn't lie." 

"No way!" Sam contended. "Donna, but I don't believe either of you. No one around here does. Okay, they're all too scared to say so, but it's true. I can see it. Something is different going on here--especially the last 24 hours..." 

"Actually, it's closer to a week for the officially," Donna informed him. 

"Okay, a week then," Sam paused. "Wait a minute! What does that mean?" 

"I have to do this," she said turning to Josh. 

"No, you don't," he said though he was not ardent. 

"Ok, I don't but..." 

"I just meant you don't have to, but go ahead if you want to...." 

"I know what you meant," she said giving him an exasperated look that faded into a grin that stayed mostly in her eyes. 

"Would you two mind," Sam interjected. 

"Fine," Donna said, holding up her hand to reveal the ring no one had noticed yet that morning; of course, she had been in a meeting with the First Lady since five minutes after she entered the building so there wasn't much opportunity to show off her hardware. 

"That's a ring," Sam remarked skeptically. 

"It's like working with Sherlock Holmes," CJ congratulated him then turned her attention to the jewelry. "Okay, this is... Okay, you two.... You skipped the dating phase and went right to an engagement? Well, that makes so little sense I can actually believe it." 

"We are not engaged," Josh offered firmly. 

"Then what is that?" CJ asked holding onto Donna's hand and gesturing toward the diamond. "If that's a first date gift, I should have asked you out long ago." 

"Josh has no patience and therefore very little ability to wait for anything," Donna explained unnecessarily. "So, we skipped the engagement and went right to the ceremony. The affair Sam is so adamant to dig up actually started last summer but technically ended when we got married. Sorry, Sam." 

"And you call yourselves my friends!" Sam seethed. "I don't believe this. You're not! She couldn't; Josh you didn't!" 

"Yeah," Josh said. "We are; she could and I most certainly did." 

Leo entered at that moment looking perturbed at the lack of business being conducted. 

"What the hell is going on here?" he asked. "I can hear the shouting half way to the Oval office." 

"Josh and Donna!" Sam said incredulously. 

"What now?" Leo asked. 

"They're married!" 

"Yeah," Leo said. 

"You know?" CJ asked. 

"Of course I know," Leo said. 

"Who else knows?" Sam demanded. 

"Uh, let's see," Donna thought. "There was me, and Josh and Leo." 

"And the President and the First Lady," Leo said. "And Charlie, and I think he told Zoey." 

"All those people knew before me?" Sam asked. 

"And me," Toby chimed in. All looked at him bewildered. "I knew. I did. They didn't tell me, but I knew. Hey, it's my job to know these things." 

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sam asked. 

"Or me?" CJ inquired. 

"It's not my job to tell you, just to know... in case," Toby said to their harsh glares. "Hey, they didn't even tell me. I didn't know why they didn't say anything when they got in today. Ask them!" 

"Well?" CJ said. 

"It never came up," Josh said. 

"You couldn't find the opportunity to bring it up," Sam said. "I saw you first thing this morning, Josh! That didn't seem like a good time?" 

"Well, you didn't even ask how my vacation went," Josh said. "Frankly, that struck me as kind of rude; I thought maybe you didn't want to hear about it. So technically, you never broached the subject, thus my contention that it never came up." 

"Not a lawyer?" CJ leered at Sam. 

"Are we finished here?" Leo asked gruffly. "Could we maybe get back to running the country again?" 

"House Ethics is gonna…," Josh started. 

"I just heard," Leo nodded. "Very good. I don't know what the hell you did about New York, but you pissed southern Connecticut off somehow. Good thing your mother lives in Florida." 

"Not often I hear that and agree," Josh added then walked into his office. 

"So that's it?" Sam said. "Donna, I expected better of you at least." 

"What can I say," she said. "Josh's approach to the world is contagious." 

. "It's catchy?" Toby responded. "Great, now I fear for all of us. Leo, I'm seriously considering moving to Canada." 

In the background, Josh started disagreeing loudly with a file in front of him containing projections from the OMB. Leo looked on with a mixture of aggravation and pleasure. He shook his head briefly before returning to the rest of the troops. 

"Does anyone here remember what working means?" Leo growled as he looked toward Josh's office. "Okay, I'm gonna regret saying this, but could you all try to follow Josh's lead. God that hurt to say out loud and if any of you make me say it again, I'm going to fire you." 

Leo left shaking his head. 

"Any other bombshells you want to drop on us today, Donna?" Sam inquired. "Maybe you could trot out some children we never knew about either." 

"Sorry," Dona said. "But ask me something else. I'm here to help, Sam." 

Sam sat down, his head reeling. He was pleased to be sure, but also angry. They hid the whole thing from him. And since the campaign no less! Everything he did to keep them apart was for naught--something he was relieved to learn--and all that time he spent afterward trying to coax them together he was making a fool of himself. They were already seeing each other--behind his back, in fact! 

"And I thought we could keep you apart," Sam muttered, chuckling at the thought of what they had attempted during the campaign. "Run away train." 

"What's that?" Donna asked. "Who tried what?" 

"Oh, nothing," Sam said, getting his legs back. 

He stood and kissed Donna on the cheek, congratulating her. He also offered his condolences as he looked cautiously at Josh in his office. Donna accepted his words graciously but she was more interested in the comment he would not elaborate upon. She made a mental note to ask Josh what it meant later.  


*****************  


The Oval Office  
1:23 p.m.  


"Ah, Claudia Jean," Bartlet exclaimed as the Press Secretary entered. "I meant to tell you, beautiful job at this morning's briefing. Kreeger, that new guy from Detriot, he tried to tak you out for a spin. You did well, but I like him. He's tenacious." 

"He thinks you're afraid to comment on the situation because you're afraid of a Republican backlash and don't hold enough sway with your own party," she informed him. 

"I didn't say I liked him a lot," Bartlet replied, unconcerned.

  
CJ nodded. "Not that I think he's right, but he does have a point, sir. I believe Leo, Josh and Toby spoke with you this morning...." 

  
"Yes, it was quite a divergence from our normal routine," the President remarked. 

  
"We are in agreement that the situation with the Congressmen is far from over," she continued despite his obvious mirth. This was the trouble with speaking to the President on days when Charlie let him have whatever he wanted for lunch. Still, she perservered. "This is going to start to take over the briefings if we don't come out on this soon."

"How would telling them that I've considered having them drawn and quartered in the middle of downtown Washington wouldn't go over?" the President mused.

"Depends on the demographic you're addressing," CJ shrugged.

"That's the kind of answer I'd expect from Josh, not you," Bartlet stated.

"Yes sir."

"You know CJ," Bartlet began as he motioned for her to take a seat, "in the end, the fate of those two ill-spoken gentelmen will be taken care of by the American public through the general election. I imagine it could be a rough campaign season for both of them."

"Yes, sir," CJ agreed. "But the trouble is, Murphy was re-elected to his third term last November and Maskell isn't up for re-election until next year."

"This is his what? Seventh?"

"Next election cycle will be his ninth," CJ answered.

"I wouldn't want to be in their shoes," Bartlet said. "During good behavior or not."

"I'm sorry, Sir?" CJ asked.

"Members of Congress are limitless when it comes to terms," Bartlet began. "However, they must serve 'during good behavior'—as long as they don't perform something illegal or unethical, they can serve as long as the American public deems it so. It's similar to Supreme Court and Circuit Justices. Though I suppose you must ask yourself does the term 'during good behavior' and its historical meaning merit a revisit."

"I think their constitutents are attempting to answer that, sir," CJ informed him. "You're addressing the NAACP on Saturday evening. We're going to have to…"

"Yeah, I know," Bartlet said. "We're preparing text. That new guy, Jim Kelly..." 

  
"Will Bailey," she corrected. 

  
"Yeah, him," the President nodded. "He's working with Sam while Josh and Toby hover over them and worry about erroding support for the assault rifle ban from the right side of the aisle. The vote is on Tuesday."

"We're going to lose support from our own ranks on prescription drug pricing and lose ground on increased Head Start funding as well," she said. "It's Catch-22. We'll losemore if we keep spinning without condemning."

"You don't need to remind me," Bartlet said. 

"No, sir," CJ said as she turned to leave. "Thank you, Mr. President."

"Actually," the President said, hastening her exit, "you're a woman, CJ."

"Last I checked," she responded.

"Well, I'm not," he continued then paused.

"Again, sir, that's good to know," she answered slowly.

"Okay, we're limiting the amount of time you spend around Josh," Bartlet said. "Or do these surroundings not impress you?"

"I'm a-quiver to my very bones, sir," CJ nodded definitely.

"Good," he continued unruffled. "I was wondering if you had heard any rumblings about a party or gathering of some sort for Donna."

"A party?"

"You know, to celebrate her recent nuptials--the sort of ritual that sounds like it should involve water but doesn't," he explained. 

  
"A shower? Well, it seemed to make more sense than doing anything for the both of them because frankly no one planning it wants to invite Josh anyway," she said confidently. 

  
"I'd feign surprise, but I've got a busy afternoon," Bartlet continued. "I ask because Ellie stopped in for a visit last evening and all my middle daughter could talk about was how sweet and lovely Donna's news was. Now, don't get me wrong, I like Donna…"

"But you don't like Josh?" CJ offered. 

"Depends what day of the week it is," Bartlet replied. "Anyway, having not seen Ellie since the Inauguration, I was hoping to spend some quality father-daughter time with her. Instead, I got barraged with questions about a wedding that I did not attend."

CJ nodded. "Understandable, Sir. For the record, there is a small get together for Donna planned for Sunday afternoon here." 

  
"By here you mean not this office," he inquired. 

  
"The Communications Bullpen, most likely," she answered. "Ginger is heading up the thing. She needs to stick close to her desk--Toby is needy lately." 

  
"Not to place undue influence on the proceedings, but could you please let Charlie know specifics so he can let me know so I can inform my wife and my daughters?" Bartlet requested. "Makes me look less chauvinistic to them if, you know, I cared about such things."

"And do you?"

"Not really," he shook his head and placed his glasses on his face.

"For what it's worth, I believe Mrs. Bartlet and Zoey are going to be invited," CJ said. "If Ellie would be interested, she can be added to the list. It's a surprise for Donna; the trick will be getting Josh to let her have time away from his tasks so we can have our fun without his complaints."

"If you're planning on having strippers, I'd counsel against it," Bartlet offered unconcerned. 

"I'd have fewer questions about Maskell and Murphy," CJ shrugged.

"I meant what I said about limiting the time you spend with Leo's Deputy," Barltet said, turning his attention to a memo on his desk. "I'd prefer he propagated his corrupted sense of social wit with his wife, but something tells me is assistant won't let that happen." 

*****************

_Georgetown_

_Thursday , 11:30 p.m_.

Josh and Donna arrived home in separate cars but in close succession to each other. She waited for him at the steps, primarily to scold him to taking the better parking place near the corner. She was certain she had told him that if it was open when they returned home that she would like it for herself. As they started up the stairs, the debate took the expected course of his explanation that he heard her but that he never agreed with her, plus he had arrived there first. She then started a lecture about his concept of speed limits. 

And so the discussion continued as he put the key in the lock. He had been back to the apartment once that evening--a brief stop to empty the boxes Donna had thrown in his car during the dinner hour as she commenced her move from one apartment to another. She had sold much of her furniture to her former roommate and would be out of the apartment by Sunday if she received the assistance she needed from Josh--a prospect she was afraid would need threats of abstinence to attain. 

Josh opened the door to the apartment and instantly spied his handy work. He had forgotten that when he told her that he threw her boxes in the apartment that he was essentially speaking literally. They were stacked haphazardly--several having tipped and spilled their contents onto the floor--in the entry way and living room along with the boxes that she had shuttled to the apartment during her lunch hour. Her work was, naturally, more organized.

"Okay, here's the thing," he warned setting the suitcases down. "You can't be upset at the mess because it's your stuff and I was in a hurry to meet with Thompson about…" 

He turned to find no one beside him. Instead, Donna was standing outside the apartment door. 

"Donna, you don't have to be invited in." 

Donna glared at Josh. 

"What," he sighed, pushing a pile of her clothing behind the stack of boxes with his foot. "It's not that bad." 

Donna waved her arm at the space between them. 

"Excuse me," she huffed. "Do you know what this is?" 

"Yeah, it's called a doorway," he answered confidently. 

"And?" 

"And what?" 

"Josh," she said placing a hand on her hip. "It's also called a _threshold_. Ring any bells?" 

"I'm familiar with the word," he replied. "What's your point?" 

"Josh," she sighed, throwing her hands up. "It's a tradition!" 

"What are you talking about?" 

"Carrying your bride across the threshold," she said exasperatedly. "Since most of my stuff is here now, I feel like I official live here--my voice is now on the answering machine and..." 

"It is?" he interrupted in surprise as he stared at the phone like it was a stranger. "Since when?" 

"Does it matter?" she replied. "As I was saying, since this is now my home, I am officially proclaiming..." 

"I don't think you have the delegated authority to officially proclaim any..." 

"I am proclaiming," she countered sternly before he finished, "that as of now this is my home. It is a tradition that the groom carries the bride over the threshold." 

"Whose tradition?" 

"What do you mean whose?" she asked. 

"It's self-explanatory," Josh stated as he folded his arms and leaned on the door casing. "I asked: Whose? Maybe it's not a tradition where I come from; maybe it's bad luck or a curse." 

"It's not a curse in Connecticut, I'm sure of it," she scoffed. "If you want, I can call your mother and verify it." 

"Be my guest," he said pointing to the phone extension across the room. "Phone's right there." 

"Nice try," she said, placing her hands on her hips. "Tradition clearly states that the groom, that's you, carries the bride, that's me, over this, the threshold." 

"When have we ever been traditional?" 

"Josh…" 

"Seriously, Donna," he argued. "I'm not a traditional kind of guy and we've been…. you know…." 

"Married?" 

"Yeah, for like a month," Josh said. 

"It's been eight days," she informed him flatly. 

"Okay, a partial month," he corrected. 

"See, this is the kind of thing I should have thought about before I said yes." 

"Come inside Donna," Josh said irritated. 

Donna shook her head. 

"Do you remember our wedding night?" 

"I recall it," he answered brightly. "Know why? It was a week ago." 

"Eight days," she corrected again. "So you recall that evening?" 

From the smirk he fought to hide (and failed) she presumed that he did. 

"If you ever want to experience anything like that again, then you would be wise to…" 

"That is blackmail," Josh pleaded, his voice rising higher than he wanted to. "You can't be serious." 

"It's compromise," she said with mock sweetness. "I learned from the best." 

"Satan?" 

"Well, Dennis Hasert has called you the Prince of Darkness, but I don't think it was meant as a compliment," she replied. "So, you have a choice. You can go back to your lonely and pathetic typical evening or…. Well, until I get carried across this threshold, or any threshold for that matter, by my husband, that's really the only kind of night you'll be having: lonely and pathetic." 

Josh remained standing in the spot and contemplated what she said. His mind flashed back to their time in Greece. He remembered something else about their wedding night. 

He sported an evil grin. 

"Wait a minute," Josh said. "I'm recalling something here. I know. It's déjà vu—sort of. Didn't you babble something about this when we got to hotel?" 

"No, I didn't," she said quickly, sorry that he did remember. 

"Yes, you did," he continued. "And I, the groom, carried you, the bride, over said threshold on our wedding night." 

"Actually, it was more of a half-carry, half-drag me to the bed," Donna corrected. 

"That was after you had spent half an hour with your face buried in those flowers," Josh said. 

"They were lovely roses," she said. 

"I know, I bought them," he replied. "The point is that you were carried over the threshold in the proscribed manner just prior to that." 

"That was a hotel room," she asserted. "It doesn't count." 

"It does," Josh assured her. "So it's settled." 

"That depends," Donna continued. 

"On what?" 

Donna motioned to the space that was still between them. 

Josh sighed. He knew Donna was not going to relinquish this fight; and she was stubborn enough to keep her promise. 

Josh gave Donna a sly smile and sauntered over to her. He stopped within centimeters of Donna and leaned toward her. She closed her eyes, expecting a kiss to rival the first that he gave her in Miami. She expected to be swept off her feet and carried into the apartment. 

She got it half right. 

She was quickly up-ended and found herself upside down over his shoulder in a fireman-type carry. She struggled and protested the maneuver, but he pretended not hear. 

He carried her through the living room and into the bedroom where he deposited her, gently, on the bed. She sat up staring at his pleased smirk and knew--yet again--that she had married a man with the intimate socialization skills of a juvenile delinquent. 

"Why did you bring me in here?" she asked bluntly. 

"You're the one who mentioned the wedding night," he said. 

"No," she protested. 

"Yes, you did," he retorted. 

"I meant no, not now," she shook her head. 

"You offered just moments ago," he countered. "You said if I carried you inside... Hey, you didn't say how you wanted to be carried. So..." 

Josh leaned in to kiss Donna and wound up kissing the comforter, since Donna swiftly rolled out of the way. 

"Donna!" he whined, rolling onto his back. 

Donna was already standing and making her way towards the closet. She was sizing up the space and measuring with her hands. 

"What are you doing?" he asked as he propped himself on his elbows. 

"Looking for room," she said simply. 

"You'd rather do it in the closet?" he asked. "I'm both worried and intrigued." 

"There are moments when I like to pretend that I simply can't hear you," Donna said. 

"This is one of them?" 

"Big time," she nodded. 

"So you are sizing up the closet for what?" 

"For my clothes!" she answered. "They are hanging over the backs of chairs and are sitting in a pile on the floor where you kicked them. Are you going to just sit there looking pitiful or are you going to help me?" 

"I choose looking pitiful," he said laying back on the bed with his fingers laced behind his neck, admiring the view of her looking perplexedly at the closet space. "My back hurts." 

"Fine," she sighed in a perturbed manner. "Just don't distract me. I'm making a space in here and then I need to go back to my place and bring some more clothes over. I don't want to renew my lease just so I can move out of my apartment." 

"You have time." 

"Maybe if you would help me, I would," she complained. "There's really no room in this place for the two of us. We should look at getting our own place." 

"This is my place." 

"Right," Donna sighed. "Your place. This was fine when it was just you, Josh. Now, I'm here, too. I would like place that I feel is mine, too." 

"There's room over here," he said, stretching on the bed. 

"Okay, I'm adding predictable to my list of things that you are besides pathetic and…. Well, okay, so I've got pathetic and predictable," she said. "By the way, the phone is over there." 

"Yeah, I know," he shrugged, looking in the direction she was pointing. "I put it there years ago." 

"Aren't you going to dial it?" 

"Why?" 

Donna placed her hands on her hips and sighed loudly. A tiny furrow appeared between her brows and her lips pursed into a thin, white line. Josh stared back at her, going over the conversation, searching for where he made his misstep. After several moments, he blinked then nodded. 

"I'm supposed to call my mother," he deciphered. Donna smiled and nodded at him, though it was not a happy, _you-are-wonderful _smile. It was more of a _yes, you-blithering-idiot-do-I-need-to-tell-you- everything _smile. 

"She called you today and you told me to tell her that you would call her back," Donna reminded him. "I'm not making her mad at me. I take her phone calls." 

"I was heading to a meeting with the President!" 

"Don't drag the President into this," Donna commanded, then stopped and bit her lip. "Oh! Is this our first fight?" 

"This hour, sure," Josh shrugged as he grabbed the phone. "And it's not a fight. This is a pointless discourse aimed at stalling my attempts to enjoy the evening." 

"I haven't unpacked yet and I need to call my mother," Donna said. "You can do whatever you want, but until I have my clothing for the rest of the week hanging some place other than the back of the bedroom door and have spoken with my mother...." 

"Just leave a message," Josh said for the umpteenth time. "That's why they were created." 

"I'm not leaving my mother a message that I eloped," she said hotly. "That's rude and impersonal." 

"I'd do it," he shrugged. 

"I rest my case," she rolled her eyes as she grabbed the phone. "I've told my brother and my sister and I want to tell my mother." 

"Maybe she'll read it in the paper," Josh offered. 

"No one in Wisconsin cares about you," she replied. "Your fan club doesn't have a chapter there." 

"You should work on that," he yawned and turned on the TV. "I just meant that it was on the TV and...." 

"Okay, it was a nasty soundbite by Tucker Carlson on Crossfire yesterday about loose morals of this administration," Donna corrected him. "It made me sound like a bubblehead trophy wife. You should defend my honor." 

"Yeah, I'll challenge him to a duel on the Mall," Josh said, no longer listening as he became engrossed in the debate raging on MSNBC over healthcare initiatives. 

Donna dialed her mother's home number again to no avail. She was on the road, traveling from Donna's brother's home in Colorado back to the condo in Wisconsin. She had left a day earlier Donna knew and had checked in with her brother twice since then. That anyone still existed without a cell phone baffled Donna. She wasn't sure she could function like that any longer. She suspected Josh would go into withdrawal if he tried. 

She would try to reach her again before going to bed. Until then, Donna's plan was to make room for her clothing in the closet. It proved easier than she thought. She merely thrust Josh's stuff to the side. He never wore his jackets very long in the office and the wrinkles hung out of the material by simple gravity from remaining on the back of his chair half of the day. She didn't worry too much about his shirts either. Even on a good day, he had the sleeves rolled up above his elbows by 8 a.m. 

She stepped out of the bedroom, prepared to make a comment about the cramped quarters, but stopped as she noted how Josh did not appear to notice she was present at all. She was very aware that these were "new" surroundings. At the office, too, she felt slightly awkward at moments. She didn't fear that lust would over take her and she would commit a faux pas of any sort, but just changing her W-2's (and truth be told, Josh's as well, since she knew he wouldn't get around to it himself) was a strange experience. She hadn't expected to be married and now she was. She had always been just Josh's assistant and now she was.... Still just his assistant. 

For her, their lives had changed forever. For him, it didn't seem so. He conducted himself precisely as he had previously. He paid her no more attention (and no less) than he did before; he paid her the same level of credit and respect has he did previously. Had anyone happened into the bullpen who did not know of their marriage, they would never suspect anything at all had changed. 

The same could be said for their living arrangements. True, she was now at his apartment and was there openly. But Josh seemed to pay her presence no mind. She wasn't sure if this angered her or reassured her about their lives together. Rather than discuss it with him, she withdrew to the bedroom. She needed time to think quietly. 

When she looked at the clock again, it was nearing 11:30 p.m. She wasn't sure if she had dozed off or if time was just moving faster. Either way, she was certain of one thing, the TV was on in the other room and Josh was not in bed yet. 

Donna stepped out of the bedroom and looked for him. At first, she thought he must have fallen asleep on the couch. However, as she approached, she noted there was no one laying on the sofa. She turned toward the kitchen and spied him sitting at the table, the TV on the counter was on as well, and he was flipping through a legal pad with a pen in hand. 

"Josh?" 

"Yeah," he looked up. "Hey, I was listening to Dobson and I got an idea. First thing tomorrow, I need you to..." 

"No," she said calmly and firmly. She had done some fruitful thinking while in the bedroom. 

"I'm sorry?" 

"The answer is no," she said. "I'm not your assistant." 

"What?" he asked and shook his head. "Donna, we went over this. There is no bar to you being my assistant just because you've got a ring. Other government agencies have some rules, but they don't...." 

"I don't just have some ring," she said. "This is my wedding ring. This, for lack of a better word, is my home. When we are here, you are not my boss. The office stays at the office. That was the old rule, and it worked. I want to re-institute it. Outside the office, I'm your wife and you're my husband. That's how it's going to be. I know your work is your life--that's all you had before. But now we're married and you don't get to be in-charge of everything. Equal partners. That's the deal. At the office, nothing changes, but outside... You can talk about whatever you want but don't give me orders like I'm standing beside your desk." 

"Donna, I...." 

"I'm not mad," she said truthfully. "I was just doing some thinking, and I need it to be this way. There is going to come a day when we do not work together. I don't want to panic when that day comes because we don't know how to be a married couple." 

Josh opened his mouth to say something then stopped. He wasn't sure how to respond. 

"I can still talk about work?" he asked. "I can think aloud and ask your opinion and whatever?" 

"Yes." 

"I just can't give you any orders about what to do at the office?" 

"You can't give your wife any orders at all," she said. "You can request my assistance, but no orders. I know things happen fast sometimes and you have to put on the Deputy Chief hat at strange hours. I'm not saying that you have to wait until we are at our desks before we start to work. I'm just saying that..." 

"I get it," Josh nodded. "I just want to make sure of one thing: I'm not in trouble in anyway right now?" 

"No," she grinned. "But it is late and you have a breakfast meeting with Sam and Representatives Farrell and Straith about funding for the Bureau of Prisons at 7 a.m. You need to go to bed." 

"So now you're my mother?" he smirked as he tossed his pen on the table. "Would you, as my wife, remind me to give my notes to my assistant tomorrow to throw into a memo I'm working on for Leo?" 

"Don't be cute," she said, shoving him toward the bedroom as she turned off the kitchen light. "You're not supposed to look for loopholes when you make a deal with your wife." 

Though they turned in for the night, Donna was unable to sleep. She knew whatever Josh had been working on at the table must be occupying his mind as he made no attempt to resume his plan from earlier in the evening. Donna carefully rolled over to see if Josh had fallen asleep. Seeing that he had, she gently rose from the bed and padded down the hall to the living room. She picked up the phone and dialed. It was answered on the third ring. 

"Hello?" 

"Momma," Donna said as her mother answered. 

"Donnatella!" Patricia Moss exclaimed with great relief. "Where are you? They called and asked and I didn't know what to say." 

"Who called?" 

"Oh, that man," her mother sighed, trying to recall the name. "You know the one. From your office. Why can't I remember their names? You know who I mean—Steven, the fluffy one with the glasses." 

"Sam Seaborn?" Donna ventured. Only her mother would take a look at the mildly-neurotic and verbose speechwriter and think the word "fluffy" appropriate. 

"Yes!" Pat snached the name. "Sam! That's the one. He was very polite, but he seemed a tad agitated to me." 

"What did he want?" Donna asked, a pang of dread trailing her words. 

"To find you, of course," her mother responded either not noticing Donna's apprehension or choosing to ignore it. "He said no one knew where you were. So I called Susan, is it Susan in Dayton?" 

"Sharon," Donna replied. 

"Yes, her," Patricia said. "So I called Susan and she told me the nice young man who walks behind the President all the time, Richard or...." 

"Charlie?" 

"Yes, Charles Oldson?" 

"Charlie Young," Donna replied; her patience level with her mother's ineptitude with names was well-practiced. How Patricia Moss ever came to give her children such unique names was something Donna never understood fully. Donnatella was merely grateful her mother never had trouble remembering her name. 

"Him," Pat continued, unconcerned. "He called Susan and told her you were canceling and that if she had any questions she should call your former roommate. So, I did that and Alice..." 

"Ashley." 

"Right, she said you changed your plans but she didn't know where you were going," Pat said. "But that Richard…" 

"Charlie." 

"Yes, I don't know him, do I?" Pat continued. 

"No, mother," Donna assured her. 

"Well, she said he took your clothing an luggage, so you know then I worried," her mother explained. 

"Why?" Donna asked. 

Her mother was not a worrywart by nature. She was easy going and gloom and doom prophesies were never born in her brain. Thinking the worst in any situation never occurred to the woman. Donna felt confident that any so-called worry her mother experienced was not the bone-chilling terror of a parent who cannot find their child but more likely annoyance she did not have any exclusive information. Pat Moss never liked being the last to know anything. 

"Well, I really had nothing to say to Steven," she confessed. "I was worried he might need some help." 

"You mean Sam," Donna corrected her. 

"Exactly," Pat replied. "You know how that make me feel. Well, your friend seemed awful worried for some reason. I asked him why he didn't just ask your Joshua, but he didn't answer me." 

Donna smirked. She never got Josh's name wrong. 

"Donnatella, where is Josh?" her mother asked. "Does he know where to find you?" 

"Yes," Donna said. "I'm with him sort of. I mean, I'm at his place, but he's asleep." 

"Asleep?" Pat asked in a baffled tone. "Isn't it early?" 

"Actually, it is," Donna informed her. "It's 2 a.m. here, Mom. But we're both still exhausted from the trip." 

"What trip?" 

"Josh took me to Greece, Mom," Donna giggled and smiled as she recalled the breath-taking sights of Athens and Corfu, the island where they spent the days following the wedding. 

"What?" her mother exclaimed. "My god!" 

"Uh huh," Donna said and chuckled at her mother's pleased, almost jealous sounding reaction. "That's not all. He kind of asked me to get married." 

"To him?" 

"Yes," Donna sighed, realizing her last conversation with her mother did not paint the most flattering portrait of Josh and his maturity level regarding commitment and basically being an adult. 

"Kind of?" 

"Well, Josh's way of asking for anything isn't precisely what I would ever call orthodox," Donna said. "He's also terrible at waiting so... I'm sorry you weren't there, but I got married in Greece, Mom. It was perfect. It was... even better than anything I ever dreamed." 

Donna started to give her mother the details of the ceremony--painting a mental picture until the actual photos were available. She also made her mother promise not to call the weddings and announcements section of the local newspaper first thing in the morning. Donna was having enough trouble dealing with her brother's teasing and threats of coming to DC to have a man-to-man talk with his new brother-in-law. She wasn't sure she wanted to get clippings from high school friends of headlines to the tune of "Local Girl Marries President's Political Commando." The lack of complete privacy was one down side to marrying the reigning prince of the Democratic Party who came with his own fan club. 

"Does Josh's mother know?" Patricia asked. "Was she happy for you?" 

"Yes, she was very happy," Donna replied. "I mean, she's ecstatic we got married, but I think she's a little ticked off at Josh for doing it in secret. Anna a liberal minded woman, but there are some things she's traditional about. I can't blame her. If my only son got married without telling me, I might be upset, too." 

"Well, that's something you don't need to worry about," Patricia reminded her. 

"I know, Mother," Donna agreed. "I wasn't thinking about that. I just meant… When Josh told his mother, she scolded him for his tactics; I wasn't on the phone, but I overheard part of that conversation. Actually, I'm kind of glad I didn't hear it. Anna's a fiesty woman and I didn't care to find out how many of Josh's less than flattering personality traits are from his mother's side of the family."

Pat agreed to her silence only after she received a detailed rundown of all that had transpired from the moment Donna boarded the plane in Washington to the moment she called her mother. 

Donna gladly fulfilled those needs. She described how she ended up getting on the plane; the sites in the city; the proposal; her rings--right down to the velvet box emblazoned with the moniker of Harry Winston; her dress (a Greek inspired affair complete with visible midrift) bought just two hours before the ceremony; the brief, civil ceremony on a yacht in the Mediterranean arranged by the ever-resourceful and mysterious Mark at the Embassy. Donna stopped her rendering there, from the moment they entered the suite. She reasoned there are some things her mother did not need to know. 

Pat Moss sniffled and wept and laughed through the tale then proclaimed she forgave her daughter for her impetuousness. Then she made two requests: she wanted to see pictures of the trip and get a visit from her daughter and son-in-law so that she could congratulate them properly. 

"I just can't believe I'm so lucky," Donna sniffled. 

"And you love him?" 

"Of course," Donna answered. "Yes, he annoys me and he's abrupt and abrasive at times, but he's also the most wonderful, and thoughtful man I've ever known. I've loved Josh for so long, it's hard to remember a time when I didn't love him. No one ever made me feel the way the way Josh does. He believes in me; he trusts me; he respects. And he loves me, Mom. For everything I am and everything I'm not. He loves me." 

"Anyone who's ever seen the way he looks at you knows that, Donnatella," Pat Moss said confidently. "And I think your father would approve of this. Now, he'd be plenty ticked you ran off on a moment's notice, but the result would mollify him. He liked your Joshua, you know. He thought he had integrity and a firm handshake--and you know what those meant to your father." 

"The ultimate character litmus test," Donna remarked. 

"He also thought Josh was kind and intelligent, ," Pat continued. "He has that fierceness that doesn't never quit when the tide turns against you. That may have impressed your father the most. You know he was not a member of any political party, but we both know he voted Republican more often than not. But he voted for President Bartlet this last time in great part because he was so impressed after talking to your Joshua. After all, he entrusted him to look after you. So now I will, too." 

Donna wanted to say on a daily basis, she needed less of a keeper than Josh did, but refrained. She knew Josh would take care of her--he had on some level for years, nearly as much as she had him. And if she ever needed more, she knew he would be there then as well. There was something in his eyes that told her he would never leave her, that he would need her as much as he wanted her; in his touch she sensed, the way he held her hand as they said their vows, that she would never stumble or fall because he simply wouldn't let her. 

Donna disconnected after receiving her mother's blessing yet again. She crept quietly back into their bedroom, depositing her robe on the floor before sliding back under the sheets to snuggled up to Josh's side. She nestled her head on his chest and closed her eyes. 

"So how's your mother?" he asked plainly. 

"You're awake," she snapped. "You were sleeping!" 

"Yes, and then I woke up," he said. "It's a fairly comprehensible progression." 

"I was quiet," she objected. 

"I could still hear you," he offered.

"Well, since you're up," she said, feeling mildly guilty that she had not told him several things before they got married. "I.... We need to talk."

"Now?"

"I won't be able to sleep if I don't get this off my chest," she confessed.

"Is this one of those conversations that requires a lawyer?"

"You're a lawyer or you claim to be," she said.

"Okay, I was kidding there, but you don't sound funny," he said, shaking his head. "What do you need to tell me?"

"Um, it's about children," she said, watching his face go from sleepy to bolt awake panic. "Don't worry. I'm not pregnant."

"Thank god," he sighed.

"That's the thing," she confessed, hanging her head both glad at his reaction and disappointed with it. "I won't ever be. Josh, I can't have children."

**Up next, chapter 9:** **_The Grid Iron Dinner_**


	9. The Grid Iron Dinner

**Title**: **HEAVEN AND HELL, _"The Grid Iron Dinner" _**(Chapter Nine)   
**Authors: Enigmatic Ellie and Westwinger247**  
**Webpage: **  
**Notes**: _This is the sequel to THE QUEST. Thanks to those of you who followed us from one series to the next._

Donna lay awake most of the night, puzzled and worried by Josh's reaction. Or rather, but his non-reaction. She continued to be distracted by it through the next day. _Did he not hear? Did he not understand? Did he not care? Was he relieved by the news?_

None of the prospects encouraged her. She wasn't sure how, but she was going to need to speak with him, at length, to find out. She feared, however, she would not get the chance any time soon as she looked at his schedule for the week. There was a slim chance he would be available that evening after his afternoon meeting with the House Minority Whip ended in raised decibels on both sides. The obligatory 24 hour cooling off period would kick in and allow Donna some time on the schedule for the evening. She violated their personal protocol informing him that his wife needed to leave after a simple 10-hour day. As she gracious left that evening around 7 to complete her settling process at the apartment, she asked him to not stay late so that they could discuss a personal matter before the morning. Though at first she was not convinced he was listening, he looked up from his briefing memo and then nodded and agreed before swiftly returning to his reading.

*****************

The evening rolled on and Josh finished a report for Leo and finished prepping for his day with the President the next day. He had just dropped two memos on Charlie's desk for the President and was heading back down the hall when he was accosted.

"Ha!" she snapped and grabbed his arm to turn him around. "I have been looking for you."

"Zoey," Josh said with raise eyebrows.

"Yes, come with me," she said tugging him on the arm.

"No," he said instantly then back peddled. "Where?"

"Josh," she commanded. "Come with me."

"Again, no," he said casually. "What do you want?"

"I want you to come with me," she said as though he was dull. "I think that should have been evident in the way I said: Josh, come with me."

"Don't you have studying to do or something," Josh replied. "For like school or something?"

"No, I do not," she lied. "Finals are four weeks away and I'm not worried."

"Really?" Josh smirked. "Well, you should let your father know that. He would be impress-..."

"Stop," she silenced him as she let go of his arm and fixed him with an exasperated glare. "I got a new car. I want to show it to you."

"The President already did," Josh answered, folding his arms and leaning against the wall. "A picture of it anyway. It was the first item on the agenda at Senior Staff this morning."

"Josh!"

"It was," he said truthfully. "He let us know how much he hates the car and that he'd pay any one of us to steal it and see that it's never found."

"He'd prefer it if I drove a Sherman tank," Zoey frowned.

"That might offer some protection, but parking it would be a pain, and I'd bet the mileage isn't so great," Josh responded.

"It's my first car, and I love it," Zoey rolled her eyes. "I bought it myself with my money--that's what he doesn't like."

"No, that you're old enough to drive and make your own decisions is what he doesn't like," Josh offered.

"That's an old problem," Zoey shrugged. "Come on. I showed it to my dad and he gave me his: _Zoey, I really would like you to rethink this _look and matching sigh."

She lowered her voice and sported a dower expression as she imitated her father. Josh smirked rather than comment. His relationship with Zoey was one of the odder aspects of his job. She had appeared in his office in Manchester, NH, during the first campaign with the announcement that her father was the candidate and she wanted to help but wanted to be treated like any other worker. Obligingly, Josh promptly fired her for being late. Her eager smile and mature attitude that no job was beneath her won him over quickly. She spent most of her after school hours stuffing and licking envelopes, making campaign calls and acting as an extra pair of hands and feet for Josh to run things between him and other heads of the campaign. 

She kept in touch with him regularly on e-mail as she completed her schooling in Hanover when the staff took over the White House. She remembered his birthday and had never shied from sending off-color and politically motivated jokes to a government email account. He had a lot of respect for Zoey and to show it, he gave her a hard time whenever possible.

"Far be it from me to second-guess your father," Josh said.

"You don't always agree with him," Zoey countered quickly. 

"That is true, I do not always agree with the President," Josh said. "However, I just said I was referring to your father. I know nothing about children...."

"I'm not a child," she said petulantly.

"You're his daughter," Josh reminded her. "I was going to say, I don't have children, so this isn't an area where I feel qualified to comment."

"You know how to drive so you're as qualified as I want right now," she said. "So, come look at my car. Please! Josh, please. I want to show it to someone who isn't going to lecture me about safety and responsibility."

"So I'm dangerous and irresponsible?"

"You have your moments," she grinned. 

"Okay," he shrugged and followed her as she practically skipped toward the side entrance.

Parked outside the door was a dark government sedan and an icy blue two door coupe with sleek lines and mag wheels. Zoey ran to the sports car and posed grandly beside it, her grin and excited eyes blazing and bright like the shiny paint job. 

"Well?" she said expectantly.

"You can drive this?" Josh asked, digging his hands into his pockets and casting a disbelieving glance at her. "It's a five speed."

"Yes, I can drive this," she said defensively. "Doug..."

"This Liz's husband or some guy at the car lot?"

"My brother-in-law," she informed him sternly. "He taught me to drive standard after I got my license."

"When was that?" Josh teased. "Five, six months ago?"

"Stop it," she commanded. "I am an adult and should be allowed to have my own car. My mother agreed... sort of."

"In other words, in theory she said you were right but she played no part in you running out and buying this," Josh surmised.

"Do you guys receive a script from my father?"

"No, I'm just that sharp," Josh said, walking around the car to take a closer look. 

It was precisely the sort of car he could see Zoey driving and exactly the kind that would make her father, even if he wasn't the President and demanded she have a Secret Service driver at all times, would worry about her owning. 

"You sure you can drive this?" he asked again.

"Yes, but I need practice," she admitted with a sly grin. "Are you ready?"

"For what?"

"A lesson," she said simply.

"I know how to drive," he replied.

"I know, that's why you'll give me a lesson," she said confidently.

"No," he answered. "Have the Secret Service teach you. They can teach you how to drive like they do. You're trying to be James Bond with this thing so go to the experts."

"I am getting driving lessons from them," she said firmly. "Starting tomorrow I have defensive driving 101 or whatever, but I have my car today and I can drive it if I want. They follow me or one of them rides with me right now. So, get in."

"Why?" he asked without moving.

"Because you're going to help me practice," she said. "I'm still getting used to this and you said you would."

"No, I didn't," he said assuredly.

"Oh yes, you did," she argued. "You promised, on March 18, 1998."

"You can't prove that," he said.

"You can't disprove it," she countered.

"It's a draw so the issue is tabled."

"No, it's not," she said. "You promised. I'm not lying and you don't go back on your word. It's one of your finer points."

"Now you're sounding desperate," Josh shook his head. "Look, I'd love to.... Actually, no I wouldn't. I'd absolutely not love to and thankfully I have a technical corrections bill that I need to..."

"It can wait."

"No, it can't," Josh said.

"Is Congress voting tonight? No."

"Zoey."

"It can wait," she said opening her door then telling her detail that she would be taking a spin on I-95 with Josh.

"Why do you bother me?" Josh asked, leaning on the car as she put down the windows.

"Because I like you," she grinned.

"Fine way of showing it," he sighed. "You know, this has bad idea written all over it. I can see you're going to ask for specifics, but I don't have any. Trust me on this. I get paid to follow my instincts."

"You're off the clock right now," she said as she started the engine and revved it unnecessarily.

"Zoey Bartlet, a sports car she can't drive and me," Josh sighed as he looked back at the agent standing near the car. "Yeah, there's no reason to worry, is there, Ted?"

"Don't worry, Mr. Lyman," the agent replied calmly. "We're right behind you and our car is faster than hers."

"How 'bout I just ride with them?" Josh asked Zoey as he reluctantly took a seat in her car.

"How 'bout you stop whining and put on your seatbelt?" 

Josh did as commanded and shook his head. Zoey inched the car, racing the engine as they edged toward the gates. Josh kept his eye on the side mirror to make sure the tail car was keeping close and wished they had less confidence in Zoey's ability to be left to her own devices.

"Ready to race?" she asked then laughed triumphantly at the pained expression on his face.

"Why aren't you terrorizing your boyfriend?" Josh asked as they entered the sparse evening traffic.

"I don't spend every minute with Jean-Paul," she said.

"Okay," he said and refrained from commenting further. He didn't know the aristocrat well and felt a certain amount of solidarity to Charlie.

"So why didn't you take Charlie instead?"

"Don't do that," she commanded.

"Do what?"

"Bring up Charlie," she answered.

"I was just saying I think he would be a better idea for this than I am," Josh replied.

"He doesn't have the answers I need," Zoey said. "You do."

"I'm sorry?" Josh responded then turned his attention to the grinding of the gears. "You need to let the clutch out a little smoother. You're hopping off it too quick. What answers are you talking about?"

"Oh, about a certain trip you took," Zoey said as they crossed the bridge and headed toward Virginia.

"Which trip?"

"Josh."

"I take a lot of trips, Zoey," he said.

"You used me in your little plot and I never knew what was going on," she said. "Not that I mind, but you should have given me a hint. I just thought you were trying to be nice to her and make up. But what did you do? You ran off and got married."

"I didn't know you cared," he smirked.

"You know what I mean," Zoey snapped. "I'd like to think we're friends. And friends tell each other things."

"Things like: Please don't kill me by driving off the road?" Josh ventured as the car drifted slightly toward the breakdown lane. "Or like, shift it into fifth gear because you're tacking out in fourth."

Zoey straightened the wheel a little and shifted the gears but not the track of her conversation. 

"I'm talking about life-changing things," she said as they continued down I-95. "You had a major life thing happen."

"Several, in fact," he agreed, seeing where she was going and looking for a way to end or change the topic.

"You got married," she said, zeroing in and backhanding him on the arm, accidentally knocking the car out of gear as she did so. "To Donna. I had to find out about it from a two second remark in CJ's briefing the other day."

"Okay, no hitting," he said defensively. "And keep your hands on the wheel unless you're shifting. Better yet, pull over."

"Why?"

"Just pull over," Josh said in a tone that she did not argue with. 

The car slowed to a stop and Josh got out. The agents approached and he explained that Zoey's excursion was done for the evening. Zoey, not pleased with the discussion at first refused to relinquish the driver's seat but agree only if she would be allowed to ride with Josh driving so that she could continue her interrogation. Josh's efforts to pawn her off on one of the agents were unsuccessful. He reluctantly agreed to drive with her back to the White House. They resumed their trip several moments later, taking an exit and returning to the interstate headed back to the District in silence.

"I can take care of myself," she said after several minutes.

"Well, I'm barely able to take care of myself, so you'll have to tell me how you do it someday," he answered, as they sped along the roadway.

"You do just fine and what you can't take care of, you now have Donna to help with," Zoey said. "So are you going to tell me about it? The wedding?"

"What's to tell?" he answered. "She was there, I was there. Some guy who was official was there. We both said 'aye' when the moderator called the question. The motion carried and the resolution passed. Typical day's work, really."

"See, it's answers like that which make me wonder how you got her to say yes," Zoey said. "You don't act like you're married. Neither of you. It's like everything is the same as it was, but it's not. You eloped and it's supposed to be exciting and something you tell your friends about. Why didn't you?"

"Maybe I wanted my private, personal life to be private and personal," Josh said. 

"Oh," Zoey nodded. 

That she understood. It seemed like her every move was caught on film or by someone with a camera or notebook. She didn't understand why everything she did was open for public comment. Her father was elected, she wasn't. Still, she had lived like this for most of her life. The hope that in a few short years she could be like most other people was something for which she could she could barely wait.

"So, what do you think about Charlie?" she asked out of the blue, mostly to change the subject.

"He's not my type," Josh smirked. "I'm apparently partial to blonds."

"I meant," Zoey sighed then shook her head. "It's not that I have a thing for him still. We're just.... He's just.... I know he doesn't really like Jean-Paul and...."

"Talk to him not to me," Josh said firmly. "This is between you and Charlie. You're going to Europe this summer, right? I suggest you get it settled before you go."

"I read the other day that I'm back with Charlie," Zoey said, recalling the gossip column that had caused a passive/aggressive exchange with Jean-Paul that resulted in him not being invited to ride in her new car yet.

"Really," Josh said. "Truth or rumor?"

"Rumor," she smirked. "I heard that you married your assistant. Truth or rumor?"

"Rumor," Josh said. "I married my wife."

He paused after he said it. It sounded so odd--saying he was married in such a casual manner and stating so matter-of-factly that he had a wife. What was stranger still was that on some level, it didn't seem strange at all.

"Okay," Zoey continued, liking the course of the discussion. "You're on the shortlist for an invite to the Grid Iron Dinner, truth or rumor?"

"True," Josh nodded. 

"You are the inspiration for the lead character in that movie they're filming based on that book your friend wrote, truth or rumor?"

"Rumor," he said. "SJ, the writer, says that but she makes things up--being a writer and all. You're turn.  You're pulling a C-minus in American History, truth or rumor?"

"Rumor," she said hotly. "It's a B-plus and after I hand in my last term paper and ace my exam, it'll be an A-minus."

The conversation continued in that vein until they arrived back at the White House several minutes later, unscathed. They were still wading through the rumor mills as they entered to find Charlie in the hall looking expectantly in their direction.

"You taught a blind woman how to drive, truth or rumor?" Zoey said, ignoring the President's Aide's stare.

"I'm sorry?"

"Yeah, I thought that was a bit farfetched," Zoey smirked. "We had a guest lecturer in one of my social justice seminar who I spoke with after class about the ADA, and she hinted that she knew you and that your taught her how to drive."

"Karen Carlylse?"

"Um, it's Karen Stoddard," Zoey said uncertainly. "She's married to Dr. Stoddard, who teaches Physics."

"About five-foot six, curly red hair and pale, pale green eyes," Josh said.

"Um, yeah," Zoey said. "But she's blind."

"Since she was nine," Josh nodded.

"Right, that's what she said," Zoey said.

"Then true," Josh nodded, and grinned at the memory.

"You taught a blind woman to drive?!" Zoey exclaimed.

"It's not like she took the driving test and got a license," Josh argued. "It was... There was an old back road near the shore and... Hey, she was 21 and I was 18, and it was summer and.... It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"You really are insane," Zoey remarked.

"We have evidence," said a voice as the newcomer appeared around the corner.

"Good evening, Mr. President," Josh said instantly.

"Zoey, might I have a moment," Bartlet said, gesturing toward the Mural Room. Zoey nodded then waved an apologetic wave to Josh as she headed toward the open door.

"I should probably disappear," Josh said, seeing the President's stern expression.

"Only if you're feeling wise," Bartlet said. "I take it you didn't lose the car?"

"She did give up the keys," Josh said, brandishing them in his palm. Bartlet waved them over. Josh relinquished possession. "For what it's worth, I'd bet one night below 30 degrees and it dies."

"I'll have it shipped it to New Hampshire in the morning," Bartlet nodded. "Thanks."

***************** 

Donna's head tipped forward again and she shook herself awake. It was barely 10:30 p.m., but she was exhausted after having finally stashed all of her things (those that weren't in storage at least) away in the apartment. She had always felt comfortable at Josh's apartment, even long before she was a frequent overnight visitor. However, it was feeling rather cramped now. She had tried moving furniture in different configurations--something that would have been easier if the man of the apartment had bothered to come home to help. She looked at the clock again. He should have been home two hours earlier. As she reached for the phone to page him, she heard his keys in the door. 

"You're late," she called as she heard him enter. 

"For what?" he asked dropping his bag and keys on the kitchen table--something she had begun specifically asking him not to do as it made the room look cluttered. 

"What held you up?" she asked rather than answer. "Did the DEA make a...." 

"I was driving," he said. 

"I'm sorry?" 

"With Zoey," he called. "She got that new car and she wanted to go for a ride so we went. Then there was a thing and Charlie wanted to speak with me, but I think he mostly wanted to ask about Zoey--don't tell him I said that." 

"You were joyriding?" 

"It wasn't that much fun," he answered as he entered the bedroom. "She was playing Grand High Inquisitor." 

"Josh, I wanted to talk to you," Donna said seriously. "You told me you'd come right home so we could talk." 

"I'm here," he shrugged as he began to shed his suit and tie. 

He had forgotten Donna's request until he had parked his car in front of the building. He was hoping she would have exhausted herself reorganizing the apartment and be asleep when he arrived. He had a suspicion of what she wanted to discuss and he wasn't sure what he should say. 

"Last night, I told you something," she said. "I was a little surprised by your response." 

"I said okay," Josh replied, feeling cornered. "You told me and I said okay." 

"I think telling you that I can't have children would merit something more than the word okay then a yawn followed by unhindered sleep," Donna said folding her arms and standing firmly in front of him. 

"You explained it, Donna," Josh said. 

"So that's it?" she asked. "You don't want to talk about it more?" 

"Why?" Josh asked. "Donna, you said you're kind of... screwed up or whatever. You told me about your sister and her problems. You've got them, too. Nothing you can do about it; it's genetic and can't be fixed. You can't have children. Nature caused it and science can't fix it—that's what you said. So I figured that's pretty much all there is to say. Was I surprised to hear it, sure. I don't know if I'm disappointed. I hadn't really thought about children. I don't have time in my life for lunch much less to be someone's father. Maybe it's a good thing." 

"A good thing?" 

"I just meant that we don't have to agonize over a decision because we won't face that situation," Josh said and surveyed her blank expression. "It makes things easier. You can't be disappointed; you've known about this for how long?" 

"I was tested when I was 19, after Frannie had her third miscarriage," Donna said. "She asked me about surrogacy. I wasn't sure I wanted to do it, but she was so sad. They'd tried for years and.... Well, when you're 19 and you find out you can't get pregnant, that's not a bad thing. It never really bothered me until... But if you don't care then...." 

"Hey," Josh said, grabbing her arm to prevent her from leaving the room. "It's not that. It's just a fact. Right? That's how it is. I don't dwell on things that can't change. It is what it is and you move on." 

"I just... I'm not saying I wanted to have a baby, but I started thinking about us being a family and it just seemed that...," she paused then sighed. "Some day, when you're not doing this job, would you maybe think about other options? Like adoption maybe?" 

"Some day?" he asked seeing the disappointment on her face that she would not express in words. "Sure. Not now though. Donna, you don't even have time to unpack your boxes." 

"You mean I don't have the space to unpack my boxes," she said, easily shifting the conversation. 

"Don't start," he sighed. 

"We need a bigger place," Donna said. "We need it now--and we might need it in the future. I'm being proactive here; besides, real estate is a good investment." 

"Real estate?" he asked. "You want a house? Donna, we can't afford a house." 

"I can't afford a house," she replied. "You can and with my salary..." 

"We could pay someone to mow the lawn," he quipped. 

"So you agree?" 

"Donna," he sighed. "Look, if you could find a place that we could afford, that wasn't an hour or more away and was worth living in, sure, but since I live in the real world... Just... I don't know. Get rid of some of your stuff." 

"My stuff? What about your stuff?" 

"My stuff has been here longer," he shrugged. 

****************  
  


_Wednesday morning_

_The White House_

Sam breezed down the hallway. He was a man on a mission. There was something that he had been meaning to talk to Josh about and today was the day. Sam wasn't going to put it off any longer.

"You're coming out with me Friday night," Sam declared as he entered Josh's office.

Josh stopped typing and looked at his visitor. "I am?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Yes you are."

"Why?"

"Because," he said, "you must have a bachelor party."

"I must?" Josh asked, eyebrows raised.

"You must," Sam affirmed. "It's tradition."

Josh smirked. "You do realize that I am no longer a bachelor, right?"

"Well, yeah," Sam replied. "But you sprung that on us."

"Okay," Josh acquiesced. "So you thought you'd spring this one on me?"

"Exactly."

"Where are we going?" Josh asked as he resumed his typing.

"Out," Sam answered.

"Out?" Josh repeated. "That's a little vague."

"Well, you see," Sam said, taking a quick peek out his office door. "I…I can't say."

"Why?"

Sam nodded out towards Donna's area. "You know…"

"Donna," Josh concluded as Sam nodded.  "Sam… really…"

"Josh, come on," Sam begged. "It'll be fun. The last hurrah of The Beltway Boys."

Josh smirked, dimples present. "The Beltway Boys?"

"Too much?" Sam asked.

"Yeah."

"You'll get free drinks," Sam offered.

"That'll last long," Josh replied as he sent his email.

"Come on," Sam begged again. "You, me, Toby and whomever else you want."

"It's it _whoever else?" Josh turned in his chair to face Sam. _

"You want to do grammar now?"

"Sam," Josh shook his head.  "It's not that I have to ask permission.  I am my own man."

"Yes."

"I can make decisions," Josh continued.  "She's not my keeper.  I'm in charge of what I do."

"Right," Sam agreed.  "So you're worried she'll be pissed?"

"Exceedingly," Josh answered quickly. 

"She'll be fine," Sam assured his friend.

"Yeah, but I won't be after she finds out," Josh replied.

"Find out what?" Donna asked as she appeared in Josh's doorway. Sam froze in his spot.

"That…that…" Sam stammered. "Josh and I have a thing Friday night so he'll be late."

"Oh," Donna said, handing Josh a file. "This is the file about the Murray thing."

"Thanks," Josh answered, taking the file. Donna exited the office. "Okay, Sammy, it's all you then."

"Yes," Sam pumped his fist. "Wait?  It's all me?  Why me?"

"You lied to her," Josh said.  

"I can handle it," Sam said.  "I'm a professional."

"Great," Josh said returning to his work.

"Excellent," Sam continued.  "So, Friday, nine pm. I'll give you the details later."

"There are details?"

"You need to know where to meet us," Sam said.

"You don't know or it's a secret?" Josh smirked.

"Josh, give me a little credit here."

"I do and so I'm asking again: You don't know or it's a secret?"

"Well," he admitted, "I haven't quite exactly picked out where we're going just yet…"

"So in other words," Josh surmised, "there's nothing. Just for that, you know that you're gonna be the Junior Beltway Boy."

 "Friday. Nine pm," Sam reminded him as he left Josh's office. Donna entered soon after.

"So what is your thing with Sam on Friday?" she asked.

"Sam wants to have a bachelor party," Josh admitted.

Donna looked at him. "For whom?"

"For the President," he smirked. "For me."

"He does?"

"Yeah," he replied, then paused. "What do you think?"

"It's fine," she said.

"Seriously?"

"Yes," Donna nodded. "I'm gonna grab lunch. You have your meeting in ten minutes."

****************  
  


_Press Secretary's Office_

_Wednesday, __6:30 am___

"Do you think that next Wednesday's a possibility?" Carol asked as she thumbed through her date book.

Ginger shook her head. "No. I've got a thing after work. How about Friday?"

"I'm okay with that," Bonnie replied. "Carol?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "I can work with that. I'll just setup…"

CJ breezed into her office and eyed the three assistants. "Don't mind me, this is just my office."

"CJ," Carol said, "we're thinking of throwing Donna a post-wedding shower Friday."

"A shower," CJ mused. "What time?"

"Probably after you call a full lid," Carol replied. "So eight? Can you stop by?"

"Barring a national emergency, I think I can swing by," CJ smiled.

"Great," Ginger said. "We want this to be a surprise for her."

"So don't tell Josh," the press secretary smirked.

"Exactly," Bonnie replied. "And since she never registered anywhere the gift list is wide open."

"What's wide open?" Sam asked from the doorway. 

"Nothing," Ginger replied quickly. "Do you need us?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Toby's looking for the thing from this morning."

"I got it," Bonnie said. She scribbled the date on her calendar and left the office.

"So…" Sam restated. "What's going on?"

"We'd better go," Carol said. She and Ginger quickly gathered up their belongings and left.

"CJ?"

"It's a girl thing, Sam," CJ explained. "But you're practically a woman anyway, so…"

"I'm a sensitive guy," Sam corrected. "It's two different things."

"Whatever," CJ shrugged as she took a seat behind her desk. "The assistants want to throw Donna a wedding shower."

"That's great," he smiled. "I'm throwing Josh a bachelor party. It's only fair that she get a party, too."

"A bachelor party, Sam?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. "You know what; I don't even want to know."

"Good," he nodded. "Anyway, you guys can have it in the Communications Bullpen before we head out for the bachelor party. That way we got all our bases covered."

"Donna doesn't know about Josh's party?" she asked.

"No and let's keep it that way."

"Sam," she sighed. "This is Josh we're talking about. I have a sense that one way or another she knows."

"You think?"

"It's Donna."

****************  
  


_Communications Bullpen_

_Friday, __7:25 pm_

Ginger walked to her desk and picked up the phone. She buzzed Carol to let her know that it was time to begin preparations for Donna's surprise. Carol let her know that she would pass on the information to CJ and would grab her items. Bonnie opened her desk drawer and pulled out crepe paper wedding bells and began assembling. Ginger ran down to the mess to pick up the small cake and bottle of wine that she had stashed there earlier in the day.

Toby looked out his door at the bustle that was occurring. He made known that his two assistants did not work as hard at their jobs as they did with this gathering. Minutes later Josh entered the area, reading a memo. He glanced up and stopped in his tracks.

"What's going on?" he asked. 

. "Don't worry about it," Bonnie said quickly.

"Okay," he shrugged as he dropped a file off on Ginger's desk. He nearly collided with her and the cake as she returned. "Look, what the hell is going on here?"

"Thy're throwing a surprise shower for Donna," Toby yelled from his office. "Feel free to cancel so, you know, they can get back to work."

"Toby," Ginger admonished as CJ and Sam entered the bullpen.

"A surprise shower?" Josh smirked, noticing Donna strolling down the hallway. "Donna! Get in here. They're throwing you a surprise shower!"

"I think that defeats the purpose of a surprise," Sam said.

"Ten bucks says she'll still be surprised," Josh declared.

"You're on," CJ said, Sam nodding along.

"What's going…" Donna gasped, placing a hand over her heart as she read the recently hung banner with her name and congratulations. "Oh, you guys! That is so sweet!"

Josh waggled his fingers. "Pay up."

"We figured that since you didn't get a bridal shower," Bonnie smiled, hugging Donna, "you still deserved some sort of celebration."

"This is just wonderful," Donna replied. "Isn't it Josh?"

"Yeah, I made twenty bucks."

"Okay," CJ glared at Josh. "I have a feeling that no official wedding picture was taken."

"We have one," Josh stated.

"Having your picture taken in front of the Acropolis does not count," CJ declared.

"He's telling the truth, CJ," Donna corroborated Josh's statement. "We do have a wedding picture. I just haven't gotten any of them framed yet. I can decide which one I want to bring in while Josh is at his bachelor party."

Sam quickly turned to Josh. "She knows?"

"You think she wouldn't find out?" Josh whispered. "It's Donna."

"Can we get this over with?" Toby yelled from his office.

CJ shut Toby's door and placed a box on Ginger's desk. "Anyway, I would like to present you with this. And I think Gumdrops over there should open it."

  
Josh opened the box and removed an 8x10 picture in a silver frame. "When was this taken?"

"The Inaugural Ball," CJ explained. "One of the White House photographer's took it. I had him enlarge it."

Josh handed the frame to Donna. "Do you remember this being taken?"

Donna gazed at the picture. There was no way she would recall that.  She looked at the image of herself and recalled being lost in the expression in his eyes.  Paying attention to the multiple flashbulbs going off was not on the agenda that evening. 

"No, I don't," she admitted. "There was so much going on. CJ, it's beautiful. Thank you so much."

CJ smiled. "They're putting together am exhibit for the White House photographer's and this was one from the Inaugural section. I just thought you both looked so happy. I didn't know why. I mean, I thought it was just because we won. But..."

"CJ?" Carol asked.

CJ's eyes widened and she pointed her finger at Josh and Donna, suddenly remembering a very upset Donna one month ago. "Joshua! You! You were the one who..."

"What's she yelling at you for?" Donna asked.

  
Josh shrugged. "It's Friday; does she need a reason?"

  
"I can't believe it!" CJ huffed.  "Donna."

"What?"

"Curled your toes?" CJ gasped then blushed and laughed as she recalled the pangs of jealousy she felt over Donna's mystery man so many weeks ago.

  
Sam glanced at CJ and shrugged her rant off. "CJ is not the only one who knows a picture helps tell a story... or series of pictures... and events."

Donna took the gift bag from Sam and removed the tissue paper. "Thank you. Oh, a photo album. How thoughtful of you, Sam."

Sam slightly blushed. "I came up with the idea, but Ginger and Bonnie did the leg work to pull it together; these go all the way back to the office in Manchester."

Donna hugged the two women, then Sam. "That was very kind of you guys."

  
"Wait!" Carol exclaimed. "I've got something just for you, Donna."

Donna opened the box and lifted the delicate fabric out. She let it open fully to reveal a silk, halter-style cream colored gown. She flipped the item around to reveal an extremely low cut back. Donna blushed.

Josh pulled out one of his newly gained ten dollar bills and surreptitiously handed it to Carol.

"Thank you," she said cautiously.

Josh shook his head and spoke quietly. "No, no. Thank _you."_

"That reminds me," Bonnie said, shooting a questioning glance at Carol who was now reduced to blushing, laughing hysterics. "Ginger and I chipped in and got you this, too."

"JOSH!" Toby yelled through the door. "Could you leave the estrogen brigade and come here?"

"I'm out here, too," Sam offered.

Toby opened his door. "Like I said…"

  
****************  
  


_Josh and Donna's apartment_

_8:35 p.m.___

Josh and Donna entered their apartment. She placed her keys on the key rack and hung her coat on the coat tree. Josh tossed his backpack, gift box and keys on the kitchen table. Donna huffed and placed two items in their designated spot.

"I was proud of you tonight," Donna said. "You behaved very well at the party."

"I did," he smirked. "Hey, while I was talking with Sam…he, uh, reminded me of my party."

"The bachelor party?"

Josh nodded. "He thinks it was a shame that he and so many others were deprived of the pleasure of the traditional wedding thing. So, he thinks I owe him."

Donna arched an eyebrow. "Owe him? How?"

"And, you know," he continued, ignoring her questions, "he makes a good argument. He's a damn fine lawyer, our Mr. Seaborn."

"Josh."

Josh continued his argument. "We did deprive our closest friends of the traditional…you know…trappings of a regular wedding process…"

"I got my shower," she countered as she entered their bedroom. She placed her newly gotten gain on the bed.

"He thinks," Josh followed, "rightly so, I suppose on some level, that I owe him and as a friend, I don't like to be indebted to a friend like this. I mean, it behooves me to do what I can for those who would do whatever they could to assist me and as this is not merely for his benefit, but that of…"

"Josh!" she said, covering his mouth briefly. "I said you could go to the bachelor party earlier this week. You don't have to convince me."

Josh paused momentarily. "But I had a whole thing…"

Donna rolled her eyes and picked up a gift bag. She headed to the bathroom and partially closed the door. "I don't see a problem with your little bachelor party. In essence, you were…deprived of one and it's only fitting that Sam, being your best friend and most likely best man, throw you said bachelor party."

"You know something," he accused, stripping off his tie.

"Know what?" she asked.

"Donna, I do this for a living," he exclaimed, unbuttoning the top button of his dress shirt. "You have something and that's why you're giving me this chance without any argument. What's going on?"

Donna stuck her head out of the bathroom. "Nothing is going on. In fact, it's going to be a nice, uninterrupted couple of hours."

"I don't buy it," he argued, looking at her. "You're up to something."

"Absolutely not," she replied, staring back.

"Right," Josh nodded slowly. "You're just gonna let me go out with Sam and the guys and…have a bachelor party, even though I will have been married for two weeks by the time it happens, with you saying a word?"

"I trust you," Donna smiled, ducking back into the bathroom.

"You're sending spies," he accused.

"Nope."

He wagged his finger at the door. "You want me to think you're sending spies so I'll wonder all night who is reporting to you so that…"

"Josh."

"Sam has a list," Josh said. "There are a handful of people from the office and others we know. He said only about 20 guys, but this is Sam and he gets ideas and sometimes and…there was this one time…Never mind."

"Josh, I trust you," Donna answered. "I know you. You wouldn't do anything wrong. That and with your sensitive system..."

"I can handle my own bachelor party," Josh huffed.

"So why are you so uptight about your own party?" Donna asked. "Do you not want to go now?"

"Oh, I'm going," he said emphatically. "You think…Ah ha! That's your game. Well it didn't work. Donna, Donna, Donna. I'm going. And I'm going to have a good time."

"Have a good time," she said sweetly.

Josh made his way towards the door. "It's not working."

"What's not working?"

"This thing you're doing to make me not go," he smiled smugly. "You're busted. I'm the master, Donna. I've got you all figured out."

"Whatever."

Josh left the doorframe and strolled over to the bed. He sat down and picked up the photo album and began looking at the pictures. "Mrs. Landingham is in some of these."

"Is she?" 

"Yeah," he replied. "Background of a couple shots. Manchester mostly…election night."

Donna exited their bathroom, clad in a midnight black lace teddy. "I miss her. What other pictures are in there?"

"Uh, people…and…stuff," Josh said, stunned as he caught sight of her wardrobe selection. "Where did you get that?"

"Bonnie and Ginger. You were in with Toby when they gave it to me."

"Nice gift," he said softly.

"What?"

"That was nice of them," Josh smiled.

Donna sat next to Josh and took the album from him. "Let's see what the other pictures are in this book."

"Let's look at it tomorrow," he suggested, fingering one of the straps.

"Let's look at it before you head to your party."

"Let's look at you now."

Donna turned Josh's head to a photo on the top of the page. "Look…the swearing in ceremony."

"You mean the swearing at ceremony," he reminded her. "You were pissed at me."

"Yeah," she agreed. "I nearly had to watch the entire thing on television."

"It was 20 degrees and breezy," Josh pointed out.

"Still, it's a once in a lifetime experience," Donna sighed.

"We did it twice."

"I wasn't at the second one," she said solemnly.

Josh turned to look at her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You showed up to the party afterward, though."

She smiled. "Yes, I did."

"At least you got to dance once."

"Yes," Donna rose from the bed. "Speaking of that dance, we need to find the perfect spot for the picture CJ gave us."

"I like it where I put it," he answered, rising and walking over to her.

"Josh," she sighed, "dumping it on the table is not the proper place. That's so…bachelor-like."

Josh shook his head. "No, dropping them in the sink would be bachelor-like. Dropping them on the table is merely lazy."

Donna headed for the living room. "Well, we need to put it up someplace."

"Well," Josh smirked, placing his arms around her waist and stopping her movement, "let's do something else for a while."

Donna turned in his arms. "You're going to be late."

"For what?" he smiled and flicked off the light.

****************  
  


_Butlers__ – The Cigar Bar_

_9:30 p.m._

_     Sam and Toby waited outside the Grand Hyatt Washington hotel for the guest of honor. Sam paced and kept glancing at his watch and silently prayed for his cell phone to ring. He tried the apartment and got the answering machine. _

    "Where is he?" Sam sighed. 

    "I don't know," Toby said. "He's half an hour late. Did you tell him where to meet you?" 

    "Of course I did." 

    "You said the machine picked up at the apartment," Toby stated. "Did you try his cell?" 

    "Yes," he sighed, "I keep getting his voice mail." 

    "I'm missing a good cigar inside because of him," Toby grumbled. "I came out here with you half an hour ago because you were sure he'd be here. I'm not sure why us standing here helps that happen, but if he's not here in five minutes, I'm heading inside for the rest of the evening." 

    A cab immediately pulled to a stop in front of the hotel. 

    "That's gotta be him," Sam nodded. "See, Toby? I knew he wouldn't disappoint us." 

    The doorman rushed to the cab to open the door for the arriving patron. Sam's hopes were quickly dashed. 

    "Hello, Sam. Toby," Mallory O'Brien smiled as she exited the cab. She thanked the doorman and paid the driver. 

    "M…Mal?" Sam asked, surprised to see the red-head. "What are you doing here?" 

    "What?" she smiled. "I can't go out in the evenings? I heard you were having a party and I just thought I'd drop in." 

    "Uh…well…" he stammered, "it's not necessarily a party, per se." 

    "It's a bachelor party," Mallory replied. 

    "Yes." 

    "So what are you doing out here?" she asked. 

    "Missing a good cigar," Toby said. 

    "Waiting for the guest of honor," Sam corrected, glaring at Toby. 

    "Josh," she surmised. 

    "Yes. Who else?" 

    "He's not a bachelor," she pointed out. 

    "It's an after…" he paused, "well, you see Mallory; he didn't tell us he was getting married until _after_ he got married so we couldn't throw him a bachelor party _before he got married, so we're doing it now." _

    "Well, think what you want," Mallory smirked, "but he's not coming to your party." 

    "Of course he is," Sam argued. "He said he was coming, and it's not my party, it's his." 

    "Donna won't let him." 

    "Yes she will," Sam continued. "I spoke to Josh after Donna's party. He said that she agreed to it." 

    "Yes, I'm sure she did," she ceded. "And I spoke with her and she said she told him he could go, but I know he's not going to show up. While Donna wouldn't order Josh to not go, I'm sure she saw to it that he wouldn't be available." 

    "Saw to it?" 

    "I'm getting a headache," Toby piped in. 

    "That he would choose not to come," Mallory explained. 

    "I fail to see the logic in that Mallory," Sam replied. 

    "Well," Mallory smiled, "you'll also fail to see Josh tonight so you two should rethink your plans. What were your plans, anyway?" 

    "Uh, drinks…things…guy stuff." 

    "Well, he got a better offer," Mallory answered confidently. 

    "Like what?" Sam asked. 

    "Sex." 

    Sam looked at her. "Oh… Well… uh…" 

    "Yeah," she nodded. "So since you have no plans for the evening, buy me a drink." 

    "Might as well," Sam shrugged in defeat. "Toby, care to join us?" 

    "You just drop the information that Josh is…and you want me to drink?" Toby grumbled. "No. I don't think my stomach could take it. I'm going to have that long overdue cigar." 

    "Have a good night, Toby," Sam said brightly. 

    "I will now," he replied as he stepped toward the door. 

    "Hey, could you maybe tell the guys that….," Sam began. 

"That Josh won't be here?" Toby completed the thought and nodded.  "I'm not sure they'll notice.  They've been in there an hour.  They probably think he's in there with them." 

    "Great," Sam said enthusiastically and turned to face Mallory with a wide grin. 

    "Don't get any ideas, Sam," Mallory warned. "Josh will have a better night than you." 

    "Right." 

**************** 

_The Mural Room_

_Tuesday evening_

_8 p.m._

    "I think I should try it again," Donna said to Margaret. "My pitch wasn't quite right." 

    "I think your speech was better the first time when you were more spontaneous," Margaret replied from a couch. 

    Donna cleared her throat and began her speech again. She was scheduled to give a brief history of the Easter Egg to the parents and children the next day who were going to gather on the White House lawn before CJ was to introduce the President to give his annual Easter proclamation. Donna had asked Margaret to join her and rate her performance before speaking on Saturday. As she was partially into her speech, Josh and Toby entered with dinner. 

    "Toby, you're right," Josh said. "We arrived just in time." 

    Donna stopped. "Go away." 

    Toby and Josh took their seats on another couch. 

"That sounds an awful lot like and order," Josh remarked. 

"It did, indeed, have that sound," Toby agreed.  

"I'm not sure she can give me orders," Josh said.  "Leo can; the President can."

"I can," Toby added.

"You don't outrank me," Josh pointed out.

"Yet," Toby said stabbing at his food. 

"I mean it," Donna seethed.  "Leave. Both of you." 

"No," Josh said, "we work here." 

"I don't want you here," Donna said. 

    "Well, that's a nice way to talk to your boss _Ms. Moss," Toby smirked as he ate. _

    "Fine," she huffed as she looked down at her index cards. "The Easter Egg Roll is a longstanding tradition at the White House…It started back in…" 

    "What is it?" Margaret asked. 

    "Nothing," Donna said quickly. "Let me try again." 

    "Okay," Margaret soothed. "You're doing fine." 

    Donna cleared her throat and started again. "The Easter Egg Roll is a…" 

    "Donna?" Margaret asked. 

    "I'm fine. I'm fine." 

    "Are you sure?" 

    "Yeah," she nodded. 

    Josh finished chewing on his noodles then asked: "Can you not read your writing?" 

    Donna glared at Josh. 

    "Okay, since you're new to this marriage thing, I'm going to help you, Josh," Toby said seriously. "That is the death ray look. It means you are in serious trouble." 

    "Impervious," Josh responded, waving his chopsticks at her. 

    "Okay," Donna said, taking a deep breath. "Here we go. The Easter Egg Roll is a…" she pointed at Josh, "if you start laughing…" 

    "What?" Josh asked. "I… I'm just sitting here." 

    "You were going to laugh," she accused. "I could tell." 

    "Well, then you should tell someone else," he countered, "because I wasn't going to laugh." 

    Donna looked down at her cards. "The Easter Egg Roll is a longstanding tradition at the White House. It started back in…you know what? I can't do this." 

    "I'm not laughing," Josh repeated. 

"Why are you in here?" she asked hotly.

"Congressman Kalen and Jankowitz are mulling over a proposition in my office," Josh informed her.

"Did you remember to lock the door?" Toby asked.

"I thought that might be a little too bold this early in the negotiation," Josh said. Toby shrugged and continued with his meal.

"Well, go somewhere else," Donna seethed. "You're interrupting."

"I wouldn't dare interrupt the history of the Easter Egg Roll," Josh smirked. 

    "Speaking of egg rolls," Toby interrupted, "where did mine go?" 

   "You most certainly would," she argued. "Don't you have a meeting to go to?" 

    "No," Josh shook his head. "I'm free." 

    "My egg roll wasn't," Toby grumbled. "Where did it go?" 

    "You ate it," Josh informed him. 

    "Did I enjoy it?" 

    "Apparently not." 

    Toby snatched Josh's other egg roll. "I'm all about second chances this week." 

    "That reminds me, Donna," Margaret spoke up. "Leo and CJ wanted you to know that there was a change; there will be a C-SPAN crew here tomorrow for all this." 

    "C-SPAN?" Josh smiled. "Your TV debut." 

    "Ex… excuse me?" Donna asked. 

    "C-SPAN," Josh repeated. "It's a TV network; they broadcast many…." 

    "I know what C-SPAN is," Donna huffed. "I fall asleep to it every night." 

    "You watch TV in your bedroom?" Toby asked. "You're newlyweds. Josh, should we have a talk?" 

    "No, you should not," Donna said. 

    "I read in _Vogue_ that the average newlywed couple…" Margaret began. 

    "Really, Margaret, that's fascinating," Josh interrupted the assistant.  "Let's not hear more about it." 

    "C-SPAN," Donna repeated, "is carrying this."                                                                                                               

    "Yeah," Toby nodded. "It's a stationary camera, Donna. They'll set up off to the side of the podium and get the speeches." 

    "Just out of curiosity, how am I going to be listed?" 

    "Listed?" Josh asked Donna. "What, you want billing?" 

    "I'm talking about my name," she explained. "They're going to be putting my name on the bottom of the screen." 

    "Your security tag says Donna Moss," Toby began, "so I suppose that's what it'll say – _Donna Moss, White House Staffer._" 

    "We can change that," Margaret offered. "They can change your ID Badge, too." 

    "Technically they can't," Josh said. 

    "What do you mean?" Donna asked. 

    "You can't," Josh replied. "Your name is Donnatella Moss. You can't change your credentials because you didn't legally change your name." 

    "It's smart not to change your name," Toby said, taking a bite of rice. 

    "Like I've had time," Donna sighed. 

    "And why should you bother to make the time?" Toby asked. "Why should a woman do what a man would never be asked? She has to go through all the hassle…" 

    "Andy never changed hers and you had to listen to why," Josh surmised. 

    "Yeah." 

    "All right, I can do this," Donna sighed. She looked down at the index cards and began to quickly read through her speech. 

    "Yeah, relax," Josh offered. "Forget that C-SPAN will show this piece about twelve times for the next month." 

   Donna then dropped her entire speech on the floor. 

    "I don't recommend doing that," Toby said. 

    "Donna, are you okay?" Margaret asked. "You look a little flustered." 

    "I'm fine," Donna assured her as she picked up her index cards. 

    "Do you want some tips?" Josh asked. 

    "Sure, I'll bite," Donna said. "What are the tips?" 

    "You're taking tips from him?" Toby sat up. "Do you know how much we cringe when he gets near a camera?" 

    "Toby, he's my boss," Donna reminded him. 

    "Yes, and he's a media disaster from time to time," he turned to Josh. "You are." 

    "I take risks," Josh said. 

    "You're an idiot." 

    "Okay, children," Donna warned. "I've got a speech to work on here." 

    "I think Josh does well on TV," Margaret said. "You look very good." 

    "Thank you," Josh said. 

    "Even when you say the wrong things," she added softly. 

    "Donna, who wrote that for you?"  Toby asked. 

    "Carol gave me some notes and Sam gave my thing a polish over lunch today," Donna answered. 

    "Sam?" 

    "Yes." 

    "Let me see it," Toby replied. 

"Why?"

"It's Sam," Toby said. "I figure that covers a lot of ground. And what was he doing writing about eggs and whatever?"

"I don't know," Donna said. "It's been exceptionally helpful to me recently, which is more than I can say about others."

"Hey, I'm all about being helpful," Josh said, leaning back into the sofa and getting comfortable. "I'll give you pointers on your presentation."

"I don't need your pointers," Donna said. "I'm pretty sure I won't suddenly feel the need to insult the Christian Right, the NRA or the Appropriations Committee. If I do, I'll call you."

"You missed one," Toby said. "Rotarians." 

    "Can I just say that before the character assassination began, I had actual, helpful advice," Josh stated. 

    "What?" Donna asked. 

    "No, not now. I've been called a liability, plain wrong and... well, the other stuff is true but you took it out of context so it borders on implied slander," he glared at Toby and Margaret. "Now, I'm just gonna sit here and finish my dinner." 

    "Good," Donna said firmly. "Just sit there. Don't say a word; don't even look at me." 

    "Don't look at you?" he asked. "Directly at you? In your general direction? What?" 

    "I think she means…" 

    "Margaret, do you recall when I was doing Leo's job?" Josh asked. 

    "Yeah," she nodded. 

    "Do you recall the only rule I had for you?" 

    "Never tell you what other people are thinking or what they meant?" Margaret ventured, recalling with some rue those few but long weeks in the dead of winter. 

    "Yeah," he nodded. 

    "I just did that," Margaret admitted. 

    "Yeah." 

    Margaret rose from the couch. "I think I'm going to go see Leo." 

    She left the room as Donna started her speech. 

    "The Easter Egg Roll is a longstanding tradition at the White House. It started back in…okay, you're doing it again." 

    "Okay, what is he doing?" Toby asked. 

    Donna walked over to Josh. "He's doing what he does," as she poked him, "now stop it." 

    "Okay, poking me," he yelped. "That's uncalled for." 

    "No, it's not," she argued. 

    "I think it is," he countered. 

    "It…is…not," she said between pokes. 

    "Oh, God," Toby groaned. "Could one of you maybe, I don't know, make it out of the 3rd grade and pretend you're an adult?" 

    "You were trying to hurt me," Josh informed Donna. 

    "Oh, believe me, if I wanted to, I could have," she steamed. 

    "I meant…" 

    "I will hurt you," Toby yelled. "Knock it off. Donna, read your stupid thing." 

    "Now it's stupid?" Donna asked. 

    "Kids rolling eggs on the law while hundreds of thousands of children starve across the planet," Toby informed them. "Yeah, it's pretty stupid in my book." 

    "I think I'm done," Donna said quietly as she gathered her things. 

    "Donna, come on," Josh said. "Toby, you didn't mean it like that." 

    "Yes, I did." 

    "No, you didn't," he contradicted. "I mean, yeah, the event is stupid. Donna, your part isn't. Well, it is, but you doing it is not…uh…whatever. Look, take your cards and go back over there and read them." 

    "I got it," she assured him. "It's not like my high school oration class. I don't have to have this memorized. I can read from the cards. I got the gist of it down." 

    "Then why were you practicing?" Josh asked. 

    "I mean," she explained, "I got the gist of it down before you two showed up." 

    "So we missed the show," Toby said. "What a pity." 

    Toby stood up and grabbed Josh's carton. "I'm taking this because I can." 

    "Okay," Donna said. "I'm done." 

    "Wait." 

    Donna turned to Josh. "What?" 

    "You're going to be on TV," he reminded her. "I was serious; did you want some tips or not?" 

    "Sure." 

    "First," he stood and walked to her, "you're not on TV." 

    "Huh?" 

    "That's the first thing about TV," Josh said. 

    "How can I be on TV and not on TV?" she asked him. 

    "Don't think about being on TV." 

    "That's kind of hard," Donna said. "Seeing as how I already know I'm going to be on TV." 

    "I know," Josh smiled. "But for your first time for something like this, you need to pretend you're not on TV. Pretend you're talking to your mother." 

    "Is that the same thing as picturing the audience in their underwear?" 

    "No. That's…uh…that's different," he stammered. "That's for debating. Just pretend you're talking to Pat"

"To keep me calm?" Donna wondered.

"Well, a little," Josh said. "Mostly, it's to keep you from swearing when you screw up."

"Ah, good tip," she nodded then asked earnestly. "So, you think I'm going to screw up?" 

    "That's thing two," he replied. "Everyone screws up. Even me sometimes." 

    Donna smirked. "Well, duh." 

    "Three," he scowled at her, "don't look at the camera." 

    "Where am I supposed to look?" 

    "Look at the guy holding the camera," he pointed out. 

    "The guy?" 

    "It keeps you from glaring into the camera," Josh explained. "Prevents that deer in the headlights look." 

    "Right." 

    "And finally," Josh said, taking her index cards, "lose the cards." 

    "Give them back," Donna ordered, reaching for the cards. 

    "Donna, no," he said. "You have these and you're gonna be looking at your hands, not the audience." 

    "Then what am I supposed to say?" 

    "I thought you knew this already." 

    "I lied," she admitted. "Now what am I supposed to say?" 

    "Say what you have on these cards," Josh said. "But know it cold." 

    "Then give them back so I can know it cold," she requested. 

    "Will you memorize it?" he asked. 

    "Yes." 

    "Forward and backwards?" 

    "And upside down." 

    "Who's gonna understand you if you say it backwards or upside down?" he grinned. 

    "Josh," she chided. 

    "Do you want me to be there tomorrow when you do this?" he asked. 

    "No, I don't want you there," Donna replied. 

    "Really?" he asked. 

    "Yes," she nodded. "Josh, I couldn't concentrate with you in here. What makes you think that I can out there?" 

    "I'm distracting, huh?" he smirked. 

    "Joshua." 

    Josh nodded. "Right. Office. We are at the office. What are you wearing for this?" 

    "Wearing?" she asked. "I don't know." 

    "You should think about it," he told her. "It's television." 

    "Josh!" 

    "What?" 

    "I don't have anything to wear on TV," she moaned as she flopped on the couch. "Oh, God…" 

    "I'm sure you have something," he said. "You've got 8 million articles of clothing." 

    "And not a thing for television," Donna put her face in her hands and moaned again. 

    "You'll find something," Josh informed her. "I'm gonna go see if Toby ate Sam's dinner along with mine. You want anything?" 

    "A tranquilizer." 

**************** 

_The Lyman Apartment_

_11:30 p.m._

_     Josh entered the bedroom and changed for bed. Donna entered soon thereafter in her silk robe. She immediately headed for the cramped closet. _

    "Going somewhere?" Josh asked. 

    "No," she answered, moving his clothing out of the way. 

    Josh crawled into bed and grinned. "Ready for bed?" 

    "I've just got to pick out something for tomorrow," Donna said, picking out a green dress and putting it back. 

    "Oh, that's all." 

    Donna turned to look at him. "That's all?!? Josh, I have to pick out the perfect outfit for television." 

    "I'm on TV all the time," he stated. "I don't worry about the perfect suit and tie." 

    "That's because I pick them out for you." 

    "Okay," he argued, "that's not completely true and I did manage to dress myself before you appointed yourself my dresser." 

    Donna returned to her wardrobe selection and pulled out a pale green pantsuit. 

    "Don't wear that," Josh informed her. 

    "Why?" 

    "You look horrible in it regularly," he said and noticed the glare emitting from her eyes. "I have to work on my adjectives, don't I?" 

    "Yeah," she said shortly and replaced the pale green suit with a navy sleeveless dress. 

    Josh scrunched his face and shook his head. 

    "What now?" she asked. 

    "Nothing," he shook his head. "It's just…that's kind of dark for a spring morning thing; I mean, if you were going to debate the usefulness and political significance of the Easter Egg maybe, but this is a thing for kids.  You don't need to intimidate them and by extension, neither does the White House." 

    Donna sighed dejectedly and returned the dress to the rack. Josh got up from the bed and went over to her. 

    "Donna, it's going to be okay," he said softly. 

    "No it's not," she huffed and rifled through her wardrobe. 

    "Yes it is," he reassured her. "Whatever you pick will be fine." 

    "Oh, why was I even asked in the first place?" 

    "I… uh… I suggested you for it." 

    "You did?" 

    "Yeah," he replied. "CJ needed someone and Carol can't do it because she's herding the brats and everyone else was busy in her department. So you jumped to mind and I said you could do it. It's a simple little speech that needs to be delivered by someone who isn't normally railing about gun control and economic downturns and stuff like that. You…you don't have the baggage the rest of us to. You're…pristine. This is a thing with kids. Pristine is good for that." 

    "I'm pristine?" she smiled. 

    "Compared to the company you keep? You bet," Josh smiled. "Look, don't worry about the clothes." 

    Donna returned to her wardrobe safari. "I have to. Otherwise I won't sleep; I'll keep worrying." 

    Josh placed his hands on her shoulders and began massaging them. "Oh, you could probably find some way to relax…" 

    Donna relaxed a little and let the tension slip away. "What about a print of some kind?" 

    "No print," he whispered, kissing her neck. 

    "Blue?" 

    "Hmm?" 

    "How about something blue?" she asked. "Wait a minute…" 

    Josh stopped and sighed. "Okay." 

    Donna left the bedroom and returned minutes later with a garment bag in hand. She unzipped the bag to reveal a crisp powder blue suit. "I totally forgot about this. I hung this in the hall closet because there is still no room in here for it." 

    "I think I'm going to bed early," he sighed as he returned to his side of the bed and lay down. 

    "You don't like this either?" 

    "It's fine, Donna," he said. 

    "Great!" Donna hung it on the back of the bathroom door and removed her robe. She crawled into bed next to Josh. 

    "Oh God," he groaned. "You're not going to ask me about your jewelry selection now are you?" 

    "No," she smiled, skimming her finger along his bicep. 

    "What now?" 

    Donna kissed his cheek. "Nothing." 

    "You're not gonna be friendly for a few seconds then change your mind when you realize that you need to sleep so you look good on TV are you?" he asked, then instantly regretted it as a furrow formed between her eyes. "See, this is the kind of thing Toby worries about when I go on TV." 

    Donna grinned. "The power of makeup can work wonders…" 

    "Can it?" he smirked. "Any time they put it on Leo he looks like a drag queen." 

    "And that makes me…" 

    "Someone who looks nothing like Leo," he added.  "See, it's saves like that that are the reason they keep letting me go on TV."

****************

_Operations Bullpen_

_Thursday, __4 pm___

The Gridiron Club had issued its invitations for their annual Gridiron Dinner to be held Saturday. The club, which consists of 60 Washington newspaper bureau chiefs, columnists, reporters, cartoonists and editors, exists only for the annual roasting of politicos. Several members of the Senior Staff, along with the First Lady, were slated to attend.

"Josh," Donna said, entering his office. "The Gridiron Club just called. They haven't received your RSVP for the dinner."

"Really," he said nonchalantly as he kept reading his memo. "I'm sure it was up to my assistant to do that. I should fire her."

Donna rolled her eyes and shuffled papers around his desk. She found the object in question. "Ah. There it is. Joshua Lyman and…"

"And?"

"And guest," she said stiffly.

"Uh huh."

"And guest," she repeated.

"You said that already," Josh replied. "Let them know we'll be there."

"You replied 'And Guest,'" Donna huffed. 

"Donna," he sighed, placing the memo down. "What is it?"

Donna flopped into the visitor's chair. "You replied 'And Guest – Donna Moss.' Not 'Mrs. Lyman', not 'and wife.'"

"Is that what this is?" he asked. "You're upset because you don't have a title?"

"Yes," she nodded. "That's exactly what it is."

Josh laughed.

"It's not funny," Donna argued. 

"Donna, look," Josh said. "Be happy you're going. CJ didn't even get an invitation this year. Of course, it could be because she was the target of the ribbing last year and wouldn't talk to any club members for weeks."

"Josh," Donna sighed, "I just don't want anyone at the event to confuse me as your assistant."

"But you are my assistant."

"You know what I mean."

Josh pinched the bridge of his nose. "Donna, I think that everyone who will be there will know we are married. But, I have no doubt that you'll correct them should they assume that you're there on business."

"Josh."

"Donna," he said sternly. "Drop it. If you want to discuss this, we can do it at home."

"Of course," she said calmly, standing. "You have staff in ten minutes."

****************  
  


That day and the next disappeared quickly, but not Donna's mood. She was still grousing about being labeled "and guest" for the Gridiron Dinner.  Donna never let on to anyone about Josh's snafu – and she was becoming quite the professional. She spent her lunch hour surfing the online real estate sections, while Josh ate his lunch - alone in his office.  Donna marked the sites and locations that interested her and jotted down the pertinent information. She then organized her choices based upon location, price, size and condition. When her lunch was over, she closed the internet and put her cards in a binder in her desk drawer.

  
Saturday evening

Lyman apartment

"Donna!"

Donna came out of the bathroom, pulling her elegant ponytail tight. She was wearing an emerald green cocktail dress with matching faux earrings. "What do you need?"

"My tie," he explained, as he dangled the cloth from his fingertips.

"Come here," she huffed. She began tying his tie. 

"Are you going to choke me?" he smirked.

"Don't tempt me," Donna grumbled, as she finished. "There you go."

Josh looked at her. "You're still pissed at me."

"Yes," she replied as she opened her evening bag. She pulled out her lipstick case and began applying.

"It was an invitation," he explained. "What does it matter?"

Donna said nothing. She put her lipstick back in her bag and then grabbed Josh's cell phone from the nightstand and put it in there as well.

"I am Joshua Lyman," Josh said. "You are my guest. What is the problem? I'm taking you with me."

"They'll think that I'm there to work," she said simply.

"We have been over this!" he replied. "You were pouting and didn't listen to what I said. You were the one who laid down the rule that the office is the office. You are at the office to work. You decided all that before this all happened."

"We've gotta go," Donna replied. "Grab your pager and jacket."

Josh clipped his pager onto his belt and put on his jacket. "What do you want me to do? Take out a full page ad in The Post?"

"No."

"Good, 'cause that costs a lot of money," he smirked.

"Just get in the damn car," she sulked. "We have to be there in 20 minutes."

The couple left the apartment and descended the stairs. They made their way to Josh's car and entered. 

"How do you want to be introduced?" Josh asked, starting the engine.

"As your wife, Josh."

"But you do still work for me, correct?"

"Yes," she said shortly.

"I'm pretty sure that Congress knows we're married," Josh pointed out. "On the other hand; these are Congressional people. They need charts and diagrams to understand our thing. It costs money to run the government."

"Just do what you want, Joshua," Donna said hotly, crossing her arms and looking out the window. "Just do whatever you want."

Josh paused momentarily before speaking. "Did you remember the tickets?"

"In your breast pocket."

Josh padded his chest. "Is there anything else?"

"No."

"Are you going to answer me with more than one word for the rest of the night?" he sighed.

"Maybe."

"Yeah."

****************

_Sunday afternoon_

Donna flopped on the couch after putting away the groceries. She spread out her periodical choices—copies of _The Washington Post, _the_ Baltimore Sun_ and the _Montgomery__ Journal. She pulled out the real estate section of each newspaper and placed the remaining sections beside the coffee table. Donna decided to delay looking at those sections and she opened her one guilty purchase, _People Magazine_. She rarely had time to keep up with the frivolity and oddness that was Hollywood, but Sean Connery (whom she adored) was on the cover. She also purchased the magazine because in the upper right hand corner was a picture of Josh. He was being profiled for being the driving force behind the White House offering a bill in regards to online security as well as his actions out of the White House. She flipped to his particular section and began reading.  The article was low on details but those they did include were correct.  She continued to read then spotted a sidebar she was not aware was being run.  This one was less about the pending bill and more about one of White House team pushing it.  She began to read:_

_As if that wasn't enough to keep him busy, Lyman also recently got married to Donnatella Moss._

_ Moss is a fellow staffer who has worked with the Deputy Chief of Staff since the 1998 Presidential Campaign and currently works under his direction at the White House. While at the office, she has to follow his orders, at home things are different._

_ "I'm not in-charge there," he said. "I think, actually, I'm on probation. I'm getting on-the-job training at this whole spouse thing. It's a good thing this is not like a regular job or she'd have fired me by now."_

_ If it sounds like he's playing the nagging wife card, he's not. In fact, Lyman takes exception to anyone making the slightest inference of that. His respect for his wife in her professional capacity is extended to their lives outside the office as well._

_ "There isn't enough time in my day to give her the credit she deserves," he said. "Actually, I wouldn't even know where to begin if I tried because she does literally a little bit of everything.  I'm not kidding when I say I wouldn't be here at this interview if not for her diligence--and that's not just because she makes sure my tie is.... you know, tied.  She did a pretty good job, too.  Check it out." _

_            After admiring the straight and well-tied knot, he continued to praise the __Wisconsin__ native, who has not taken his last name. He states that was something she decided on her own. A name is a name, he shrugged. Then, as if to be certain no one thinks she's only around to be sure he looks presentable, he launches effortlessly into further reflective praise for Moss._

_ "Anyone who works in DC politics knows she is the impenetrable gatekeeper for my office," Lyman said. "She is also my chief researcher, and for that reason she has logically become the first level of devil's advocate I go through on any number of subjects.  I've been described as a political savant, but I have no innate gift.  What I accomplish is done through trial and error (more error than trial some days) and countless hours of hard work.  Through it all, there's only one person who has been there for every moment, every idea since starting at the White House.   I've said it time and again that she is the greatest assistant inside the Beltway."_

_ Political operatives who have ideas of trying to lure her away are warned. Any attempt to shanghai Moss or her skills will likely be taken personally by her boss. _

_ She accompanied Lyman to the interview at the downtown eatery but did not come to the table during the interview. When asked to point her out, even after an hour long discussion and heavy lunch time traffic filling the establishment, Lyman knows precisely--almost instinctively—where she is. Without looking around, he answers._

_ "She's the gorgeous blond wearing red sitting at the table next to Congressman [Thomas] Gunther," Lyman said and noted that she was also the one who was lecturing him as the entered the restaurant. "She wanted to know what I was going to say for this. The problem is, I didn't know precisely.  She did these index cards for me to prep me on the latest changes to the bill we were discussing.  She spent a couple hours yesterday and this morning getting details that I asked for and so she was, understandably, curious how I would use it.  She was also worried because there are times--rare though they are--that I say things which are... Well, let's say they keep things interesting at the office and Leo McGarry's hair hasn't always been quite that shade of gray."_

_ Lyman's self-deprecation is honest and accurate. He is both a loose cannon and a well-respected advisor to the President. He credits Moss with providing the grounding force needed during tumultuous times such as the shooting in __Rossilyn__, __Va.__ in August 2000 that nearly took Lyman's life._

_ "I have a unique and regrettable distinction among my political colleagues who support gun control," Lyman said. "I know what it's like to be the victim of gun violence.  I'd rather do something so it doesn't happen to others than talk about what happened to me. And while that was one of the most difficult events in my life, I don't think it compares to what Donna did. She stood by me while I moved through the various and difficult stages of recovery; she navigated the anxiety of a normally chaotic world turn upside down and inside out in the blink of an eye and weathered probably the most difficult and impatient patient ever to grace the planet.  She did it without complaining, without flinching and without failing."_

_ And she did this all this before the two even became involved on a personal level, Lyman points out. He said to call her efforts and endurance above and beyond the call of duty would still be too puny of a description._

_ "I had a lot of support from friends and family, but her care, concern and compassion stand out from the rest," he said. "She is my assistant, my partner; she's the woman who makes me look good in more ways than one. She is exquisite and indomitable, and if I don't wrap this up soon, she's going hurt me because she has to get me prepped for an economic meeting at __3 p.m.__" _

            Donna closed the magazine and blinked back an unexpected tear.

            "Bastard," she said with a pleased scowl.  

Up next: Chapter 10**_, A Stolen Season_**__****


	10. A Stolen Season

**Title**: **HEAVEN AND HELL, _"A Stolen Season" _**(_Chapter Ten_)   
**Authors: Westwinger247 and Enigmatic Ellie**  
**Webpage: **  
**Notes**: _This is the sequel to THE QUEST. Thanks to those of you who followed us from one series to the next._

_Georgetown___

_Sunday morning_

    Josh woke on the couch and stared at the gray morning light seeping into the room.  He had come home just after midnight with Donna in tow.  Not that he had remembered she was there.  He was too distracted by the meeting with Toby and the present political squall still whirling around the District from two Congressmen without a brain or politically correct bone between them.  That only one was a member of the Democratic Party hardly seemed to matter.  Congressmen Maskell and Murphy, Josh knew, had to stop being a part of the news cycle soon or there would be trouble for the administration from quadrants where they needed support for appropriations, education and environmental legislation on the schedule for the year.  The White House had sidestepped the landmines thus far, but it was one of those near miss situations that would haunt them in the future, Josh knew.  With those thoughts—and those attempting to predict when their lack of comment would come back to bite them—Josh had parked his car and gone to the apartment alone.  

    Only, he wasn't exactly alone.

   Donna had followed him home from the office.  It was a minor point that in more restful days he would have recalled.  He was at most five minutes in front of her.  Less than a minute, she claimed later.  His defense of: "I forgot" didn't remove the scowl from her face as she stood in the doorway.  He wasn't sure if it was the fact that he had not waited for her on the steps outside or that he had locked the door behind him after entering that made her so angry.  

    Whatever the case, he slept on the couch.  The next morning, when he awoke, he did so still not sure what he had done wrong precisely (it wasn't like she didn't have a key—though saying that also did nothing to help his case the previous evening).  He rubbed his eyes then his neck, which wasn't quite as sore as he had feared, and spotted Donna curled up in a chair by the window reading and sipping coffee.  She looked up at him and smiled.

    "Am I in trouble?" he asked with trepidation.

    "You know what?" Donna replied. "You've got to love me."

"I really don't," Josh replied. When her stare could be felt boring into his forehead, he elaborated. "I do, but don't have to--I choose to; it's.... It's probably better if I just shut up now, isn't it?"

"Yeah," she replied. "So I was about to say I'm amazing. Do you know what I did?"

"Questions like that get me in trouble lately," he said sitting up and wondering whether there was coffee in the kitchen.

"Think," she said. In the pause, her exuberance could not be contained. "The perfect house."

"Oh, a 290/145 split," Josh responded easily. "Our favor, of course. That's about 66 percent, which would mean pretty smooth sailing for the...."

"What are you talking about?" Donna interrupted. She was used to being the one with the extraneous comments that did not quite follow.

"The perfect House," Josh said. "Toby would disagree on the exact numbers, but I'm greedy like that, and Toby doesn't understand politics the way I do. You give me 290 Democrats in the House and I would be able to...."

"Josh," she stopped him as she approached the couch and took a seat beside him. "Turn the political side of your brain off. The word house, to most people, means a dwelling where one lives. I suppose I erred in thinking that you could process more than one definition of that word, but try to keep up, okay?"

"But 290 seats held by Democrats would be the perfect House," he insisted.

"I don't care," she said waving off further discussion. "I have found us the perfect place for us to live!"

"We have a place to live."

"No, we have your apartment, which I've told you I don't like," Donna said. "It's better than where I used to live, but it's an apartment. I know it's close to the office, but I still don't care. It's a bachelor's apartment. You said we could get a house."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did," she argued.

"When did I say that?"

"Well, you just didn't use those words," Donna nodded. "You said something like, 'Donna, if you can find a place that isn't outrageously priced, isn't half way into another state and isn't going to be a money pit then by all means, go ahead and buy it.'"

"And you took that to mean, Donna go house hunting?"

"Uh huh," she nodded eagerly. "Aren't I good?"

"You're nuts," he sighed, "which doesn't speak highly of me as I hired you and married you."

"Congressman Baxter," Donna said firmly.

"John Baxter?  Democrat from the Massachusetts third?"

"Do you know another?"

"No."

"Then, yes, him," Donna said.

"He's not a Congressman any more," Josh informed her. "He didn't run for re-election. After his wife died, he retired."

"I know," Donna smiled, though she felt morbid doing so. "He's been packing up his life here for the last five months so he can move to Florida to live with his son."

Josh stared at her, still unsure what this had to do with either the party divisions in the House of Representatives or a dwelling where people lived. However, he felt it was wise not to say so at that time.  The location of coffee was of more interest to him.

"I saw him at the Hill when I was rounding up some stuff for Sam Friday afternoon," she explained. "He was having lunch with someone."

"Who?  And what are you doing helping Sam?  You work for…"

"Doesn't matter, Josh," she cut him off. "Listen. He asked after you, and we struck up a conversation. One thing let to another."

"Did he make a pass at you?" Josh asked, sounding unconcerned. "He used to do that with the secretaries and clerks. His wife died of liver disease—hitting the bottle was the only way she could deal with his extra-marital..."

"Josh! Stop talking," she said placing her hand over his mouth. "He did not make a pass at me, though he definitely tried flirting. Anyway, we were talking and he sort of offered to let us buy his house."

"Donna, John Baxter was raised on an obnoxious bank roll stock piled by his father during Prohibition," Josh explained. "He used to tip cab drivers with 50-dollar bills because he never carried anything smaller in his wallet. We're not poor, but there's no way we could afford any house that man owned. A conservative estimate would place it at probably worth something like half a million dollars so you can just..."

"He's selling it for a fraction of that," Donna said. "He's got some family thing going on between his daughter and his son, and he wants to get rid of the house—well under market value if possible--and here's the kicker, he's got a buyer whose bid is embarrassingly low, but Baxter wants to under cut him."

   "I don't understand," Josh said. "He's cheating himself out of a larger profit? That makes no sense."

   "I know, but his buyer is some freshman Republican who insulted Baxter at one of the Inaugural events," she continued. "The man has a pride streak hundreds of miles wide! So he wants to rebuff this guy. What better way than to sell the place for less money to the man Republicans hate more than they hate the President?"

"And you said I wasn't a celebrity," Josh remarked.

"Were you listening to anything I just said that was important?"

"He's not serious, Donna," Josh said. "He was probably just saying that to come on to you. He wanted you to go back to his house and then he was gonna accidentally on purpose pinch you and see if you liked it. The man is a complete rake."

"I went to his place and I loved it," she said.

Josh opened his mouth and gave her an appraising look. Before he could utter his thoughts, he was silenced by the determined furrow in her brow.

"The house, Josh!" she said forcefully. "I loved the house not the pinching. I mean, there was no pinching!"

He smirked and shook his head. Donna chose to ignore the reaction.

"The place is not that far away from the office," she said. "It's farther than this place, but it wouldn't be that long of a commute. Plus, it's in a wonderful neighborhood--quiet and secluded and (in case you were curious) the demographics show it's primarily Democrat country."

"I don't care," Josh said returning to his newspaper.

Donna was undeterred.

"The house is beautiful, Joshua," she pleaded. "That's where I was yesterday afternoon when you got in trouble with CJ about…. What did you do to make her…"

    "You automatically assume that I am the one in the wrong," he protested.

    "That's only because I know you so well," Donna explained.

    "Well, for your information, I have no idea," Josh said haughtily though after speaking didn't think he'd come out on the winning end.  

    "I don't really care," Donna waved off further discussion.  "So it's a colonial design and has hardwood floors."

    "I'm sorry?"

    "Baxter's house," she said.  "Keep up, please.  There are four bedrooms upstairs and an office sort of library thing downstairs. There's a carriage house in the back that's like a studio apartment so when my family visits or when your mother does, they don't need to get hotel rooms. The yard is beautifully landscaped and...."

"I know what it looks like," Josh interrupted. "Baxter and Earl Brennan were friends, though I never understood why. I've been to the house a few times. It's just down the street from Secretary Donaldson's place. The answer is no.  I know that look, but you can just forget it. Donna, this is crazy."

"So was a trip to Greece two months ago, but you didn't hear me say no, did you?"

Josh opened his mouth to disagree, but the argument he wanted to offer wouldn't form. He knew the idea was nuts, but the hows and whys would not rise to the surface. Coffee.  Coffee would make him sound intelligent and reasonable, he decided.  However, his drive to stand up and search for the magic elixir was thwarted by the look on her face. Her pale eyes were wide and excited. Her smile was hopeful and the sound of her voice pleaded with him.

"Donna, financially, it makes some sense--it's an investment, I understand that--but realistically....," he paused to sigh. "We're never here at the apartment. In a few years, we're both out of jobs. I'm not worried about employment prospects, but who knows where they'll be. And..."

"And you said I could do this," she said firmly, the hurt in her eyes making them misty. "Josh, I want a place that's ours, a place that's ours together. This apartment is yours. I don't feel like I belong here. It's like living in a hotel room. It feels so temporary. And frankly, there are a lot of not so wonderful memories for me here."

"Donna."

"I'm thinking ahead here," she continued. "Some day we'll need the extra room."

"For what?"

"For the circus," she said and rolled her eyes. "For children, Josh. You agreed that some day we could look at adoption, and I think we'd be better parents if we had a room for the child to sleep in rather than a box beside the coffee table."

Josh sighed. It was insane to agree. And he wasn't going to. Research, he proclaimed. She needed to convince him with more than just a reprobate ex-congressman's urge to screw over a Republican who thumbed his nose at the man. If she could give him hard facts and compelling numbers, he would be willing to listen to a sales pitch.

****************

_The White House_

_June 5th_

    Sam breezed into Leo's office from the hallway and dropped a briefing memo on the desk. He exited through Margaret's area when the person sitting in the visitor's chair stopped him in his tracks. 

    "Dropping off super secret government stuff or did you do a book report?" she asked as he started to exit the area. 

    "Mallory," he said surprised.  "What are you doing here?" 

    "Sitting here, expecting a cancellation of a lunch date I had with my father," she smiled. 

    "Cancellation?" 

    "Yeah," Mallory sighed. "I made a date with Dad for today and then the thing with the Congressman occurred and when you put two and two together…" 

    "You get Leo tied up all afternoon," Sam surmised. "I'm sorry, Mal." 

    Just then Margaret breezed into her area. "Mallory, your father called and…" 

    "Needs to cancel," she finished the assistant's sentence. "I figured as much. Tell him I understand, and I'll call him so we can reschedule." 

    "He was wondering about dinner on Thursday," Margaret added. 

    "I think that works, but I'll check to make sure," she answered.  Margaret jotted down the message, picked up a file and left. 

    "Guess that's that," Sam said. 

    Mallory rose from her seat and linked her arm through the speechwriter's. "You're taking me to lunch." 

    "I am?" 

    "Yes," the redhead nodded. "I am currently without a lunch date, and you have to eat." 

    "I was going to have a doughnut from the Mess," Sam admitted, "because I've got two more briefing memos to review, an economic speech to write for the President's upcoming trip, and have to prep for a meeting tomorrow." 

    "Good, you're not doing anything too important," Mallory smiled as they started walking down the corridor. "We're going to Clyde's and have a nice conversation about… Well, something that doesn't involve your job." 

    "Okay," Sam said haltingly as he smirked. "So, Mal, which Testosterone junkie are you seeing lately?" 

    "Excuse me?" she turned towards him. 

    "Or should I ask which want-to-be Testosterone junkie," he continued. "You seem to pick bench warmers.  I'm not a professional athlete, but that's generally the sign that they're the bad ones." 

    "Sam." 

    "Sorry," he apologized. "But that was so easy and it has nothing to do with my job." 

    "Fine. Which tabloid is running a tawdry story about you this week?" she shot back. 

    "Touché," he nodded as they turned the corner. "Wait. This isn't the way to my office. My office is that way." 

    "That's because we don't need Toby's permission to eat lunch," Mallory replied. 

    "Maybe you don't," he argued. "However, I also need my jacket." 

    "You'll be fine," she reassured him. 

    "My wallet's in the jacket unless you're the one buying me lunch," Sam ventured. 

    "Get your jacket." 

********************  
  


_Office of the Deputy Chief of Staff_

_3 p.m._

    "Hey Josh," Sam said as he entered and took a seat opposite him. "You just now eating lunch?" 

    "Yeah," Josh responded as he picked up a fry. "My thing with Rositer ran over." 

    "So, I had lunch today," Sam stated. 

    "That's great," he replied flatly.  "Does Tim Russert know?" 

    "I had lunch today," Sam repeated oblivious to the sarcasm.  "With Mallory." 

    Josh picked his head up. "Mallory?  Mallory who?" 

    "Yes, Mallory Who," Sam smiled. "And can I just say we had a marvelous time." 

    "Does Leo know?" 

    "Not unless you or someone else tells him--can we not tell him?" Sam pleaded. "Because, you know, I like my job and I'm having a good week here." 

    "What's in it for me?" Josh smirked. 

    "Funny you should ask," Sam said, sidling into his pitch.  "I am here to offer you a fantastic and stimulating dinner for you and your wife among friends—a relaxing evening in town, my treat, with just one catch.  No business talk.  That seems to be Mallory's thing—no office talk.  I figure, it's going to happen, but if you're there then you'll be the most likely violator since you really only have two subjects you can speak out intelligently: politics and the Mets.  No one else on the planet likes to talk about the Mets—who just dropped their seventh straight, by the way—so you'll fall right into politics.  So Mallory can be mad at you more than me.  Basically, I come out looking good and you…  Well, you're just you, but I buy you dinner and that's a pretty good deal.  So, next Tuesday good for you and the little woman?"

    "I don't understand." 

    "Donna," Sam said. "Your _wife,_ Donna.  You married her about…" 

    "Right," Josh said. "I know who she is—and please, call her the little woman to her face just once in front of me.  That I would pay to see.  No, I meant, what are you saying about dinner?" 

    "It's just that…" Sam stammered. "I… I really want to take Mallory out to dinner, and I think we should double. That way it will look like work." 

    "Mallory doesn't work with us," Josh pointed out. "And you just said that there was to be no work talk.  I'm confused."

   "I know that, but you'll get used to that," Sam said quickly.  "You're not quite as dumb as most people think." 

    "That's a jab about the Mets?"

   "Yeah," Sam shrugged.  "Toby's offered to pay me for every one I land in a weekday.  I'm up to ten bucks in this conversation alone."

   "Right," Josh nodded.  "So explain to me what Donna has to do with you wanting to sleep with Mallory?" 

    "Josh!" Sam sighed. "I didn't say I wanted to…  I mean, I do, but that's not what…  This is a viable reason for me to ask Mallory out to dinner.  We can celebrate, albeit belatedly, the nuptials of some mutual friends.  I think it'll be more comfortable if she's around familiar faces." 

    "So invite Leo," Josh smirked. "I'm sure that he'd be thrilled to go along and chaperone you and his only daughter while you ply her with martinis and attempt to get her..." 

    "You're not helping," Sam rose from the chair. "All I want is a simple dinner request from my friend, and all I get is grief." 

    "Gotta expect it from me."    

    "Josh." 

    "Sam, I'm here for you," Josh continued.  "However, I'm not going to pimp for you." 

    "I'm not asking you…." 

    "You're asking me to arrange a date for you and Leo's daughter," Josh cut him off.   "That's close enough.  Sam, take this in the spirit it is meant: You're making me look like the mature one here." 

    "You're right," Sam sighed.  "But I have a point." 

    "You actually don't, but it was a good effort," Josh continued as he grabbed a folder and prepared to head to a meeting.  "If you want to throw Leo off the track or dissuade him, that's your business, but I wouldn't recommend it, and I'll have no part of it.  I make it a policy not to play around with the personal lives of my friends."

    "You set Toby up to spend time with his father last Christmas," Sam reminded him.  "How was that not meddling?"

    "Because it wasn't," Josh said.  "Okay, it was, but it was good meddling.  It was his father and…  Look, he was making a mistake that he would regret.  So, that was different.  It wasn't deceptive just opportunistic.  I just got them in the same room so Toby would stop being a jackass and listen.  There was no underhanded dealing and no manipulation.  That's the difference."

    "I'm not being manipulative or…."

    "Besides, it was Toby," Josh continued, ignoring Sam's sudden urgency and offense.  "Toby is a co-worker—an equal essentially, but this Mets thing he's on is seriously—"

   "Josh," Sam interjected.

   "Right," he shook his head then continued.  "The thing with Toby and his dad was for a good cause and I did that as a friend.  What you're asking me to do here is different.  Leo is, you know, my boss.  So, there's that.  And, basically, I don't like the whole concept of running a scheme on people I know and like.  I find that it insults them and generally makes for colossal problems down the road.  I also do what I can to not hide things from Leo.  Mostly that's because I'm not good at it, but it also has the added value of being smart." 

    "You're right," Sam said, feeling a twinge of guilt after Josh's words.  "I'll try a different approach." 

    "You're a good man, Sam," Josh congratulated him as they parted ways in the bullpen. 

    Sam looked at Donna's desk.  There was a note on her computer screen announcing she was at a dentist appointment until 4 p.m.  He could wait. 

    _Donna will set the date up for me_, Sam nodded confidently.

********************  
  


_Georgetown___

_11:30 pm_

    "Have you thought about it at all?" Donna asked the moment Josh opened the door.

    "About what?" Josh asked, as he entered the apartment. "If it's about HR 221, I said that Toby was right like an hour ago and took a beating from him and Sam for my earlier disagreement."

   "No," she shook her head. "I meant about the house."

    "What did the House do?"

    "Josh!" she huffed. "Baxter's house. The one I told you about.  He called this morning."

    "I haven't thought about it, Donna," Josh stated. "Know why? 'Cause we don't need one."

    Donna rubbed her eyes then placed her hands on her hips. "But I have numbers."

    "Numbers?" he asked, dropping his bag on the kitchen counter.

    "Yes," she nodded. "You asked for research and numbers. I've got both."

    "You researched?  When did you have time?"

     "I managed while you were at various meetings," Donna explained. "And I was able to still keep up with all the things you gave me to do."

    "That's what I pay you to do," Josh smirked.

    "I am quite something," she asserted. "Now sit at the table."

    "What are you going to do to me?"

     "You wanted numbers," Donna declared as she placed a green folder on the kitchen table. "I've got numbers."

    Josh chuckled and shook his head. Donna was on a mission.

    "You wrote a report?"

    Donna lifted the first piece of paper and slid it over to him. "This is a copy from the property taxes. And the amount that I circled is the appraised value."

    Josh looked at the value, his expression remaining cool. He knew the value of the homes in the area was an easy and lofty six figures, but he had no idea that the Congressman's house was valued at that price.

    "Next item?" he asked calmly.

    "This," she replied, "is the asking price of Congressman Baxter. Below, he wrote the bid he received."

    "Mmhmm," he nodded. "That's quite a difference."

    "Quite a difference?" Donna scoffed. "Josh, this is a steal. A _steal_!  If I didn't know better, I'd say he was losing his mind and what we were going to do was illegal."

    "Baxter is shady so this probably is illegal somewhere along the way," Josh said.  "Besides, we aren't going to do anything."

    "Yet," she said.

    "I agree that it's…" he paused, "a price that anyone would love to have."

    "And we can have it," she implored. "Please, Josh?"

    "Don't…" Josh warned. "Don't give me that face."

    "Please?"

    Josh sighed in defeat. "This is not a decision you make at the end of the day after looking at two pieces of paper.  I'll…I'll think it over.  Donna, you don't rush into something like this just because you like hardwood floors."

   "There's also a marble fireplace in the living room and the most beautiful mahogany banister," she added.

    "Naturally," he sighed.  "Look, there's more to this than a simple asking price.  Donna, this is a huge investment and I try not to make colossal spending decisions after I've been awake and working for 19 hours."

    "You work on the budget with less sleep," she reminded him.

    "That's mostly other people's money," Josh yawned.  "Look, let's talk about this more tomorrow…. Or the day after that."

   "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you," she grinned as she showered him with kisses. "You won't regret it. It really is an excellent deal."

    "I didn't say yes," Josh said.  "I said we'll talk." 

    Donna slipped into Josh's lap and slowed her kiss. "I'll bribe you with sex; will that help you make your decision?"

    "You're lowering yourself to that as part of the negotiations?" Josh asked, pulling back.

    "Well, no, I just...."

    Josh flashed the sexy dimple. "Hey, I'm not saying it's a bad thing.  Sex has its place in compromise."

    "You're awful and everything my mother told me to avoid," Donna grinned.

    Josh stood and scooped his wife into his arms. "Yeah, but you married me so you don't look so great in this situation either."

****************************  
  


_Thursday_

_The White House_

_1 pm___

Josh and Sam walked toward the mess in search of Toby who was half an hour late for their 12:30 meeting in his office.  

   "Can I tell you something?" Josh began as they descended the stairs.

"Sure," Sam nodded.

"Donna wants to buy a house," Josh said in a conspiratorial tone.

"Why?" Sam asked. "She lives with you in your apartment."

"That's what I said," Josh agreed with relief that someone else saw his point. "It's not like we're ever there anyway. I spend 14 hours a day at the office--more sometimes."

"And she's gotta be here with you usually," Sam added. "What is she going to do with a house?"

"Precisely."

"And when would she see you if she's trying to keep up a house?" Sam continued. "If you're here more than half the day, she's going to be there trying to keep things in order or whatever, making sure everything's working and not leaking or whatever, she's not going to have time to drop by your apartment to see you when you're done work. I know she's a hard worker and all, but there are limits. And where is she going to find the money for..."

Sam paused in his stride and speech as he realized Josh was no longer beside him. He turned around to see the Deputy Chief of Staff eyeing him with a doubtful expression.

"She wants _us to buy a house," Josh said, shaking his head and questioning why he had started the conversation. "She's found this place and thinks she's got a deal on it. I think it's a..."_

"Oh," Sam said quickly snapping his fingers. "Right. Well, you should buy it. You really should. It's a steal at that price, and it's a hell of an investment."

"What?"

"Baxter's house," Sam offered. "The one with the hardwood floors and the carriage house in the back. Great landscaping and it's a quiet neighborhood; marble fireplace in the living room, you know."

"How do you...," Josh began then shook his head. "You were just saying it was a bad idea. A second ago you thought she was buying it by herself."

"I wasn't thinking," he said easily. "Then I remembered."

"Remembered what?"

"That Donna asked me to work you over a bit on this," he said. "It's been a long week so I forgot until now. Don't tell Donna, okay?"

"She asked you to work on me?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "She gave me her pitch and, frankly Josh, it should have worked on you. I think someone is just a little bit resistant to giving up his bachelor pad."

"My...," Josh shook his head. "I'm not seeing it like that. I'm seeing an investment, yes, but not one that we will be able to...."

"What's going on?" CJ asked rounding the corner.

"We're fighting about a house," Sam informed her.

"Won't it make Donna jealous if you two start buying real estate together?" she asked with a wide grin. "I know you two are close and all, but I always thought you preferred blonds, Josh."

****************  
  


_Josh and Donna's apartment_

_June 25, __10 pm_.__

    Two weeks had passed since Donna had pled her case. Josh listened to her nightly ramblings about how wonderful a deal they would be getting. After speaking with Baxter (and according to Josh, no sex), he agreed to buy the house.  The closing was set for the first week of July and Donna was making it a point to continually reaffirm that it was indeed a sound investment and they were getting a tremendous deal.  To cease the repetitive diatribe, Josh relented and allowed her to leave by 7 p.m. most nights so she could get started on packing the apartment. She had hoped that Josh would help with some of it, but he usually arrived home in the wee hours of the morning after Donna had gone to bed.

    Donna was in the process of moving a couple of boxes towards the front door, when she heard Josh enter.

    "Hey," he said, setting his backpack and keys on the counter.

    "You're home early," she smiled.

    Josh nodded. "Yeah. We decided to table the discussion until tomorrow. Something about a Congressman's wife going into labor."

    "Well I'm glad you're home," she said, shoving a box into his arms. "Put that with the other kitchen stuff."

    "Where's the other kitchen stuff?"

    Donna pointed to the four large boxes. "See those? The ones marked 'KITCHEN'? That's where it goes."

    "Fine," he sighed, placing the box on top. "You almost done?"

    "Josh, watch out for the…" Donna warned. Josh tumbled head first over a box. "…box, there."

    "Thanks," he winced.

    "Are you all right?"

    "Fine," Josh huffed as he stood and hobbled first to the couch. Finding it loaded with boxes and bags, he slowly made his way over to the ottoman.

    "You need some ice," she pointed out.

    "I need some sex," he countered.  "I recall you promised that…"

    "No," Donna replied confidently. "Since you're home early, you can help me pack."

    "Donna," Josh said. "Just because I'm home, doesn't mean I am your packing assistant. I still have briefing memos that I have to read tonight because I didn't get to them today.  In fact, the only reason I'm here—other than the meeting being cancelled—is that I have a headache and….  Do we have aspirin any place or did you pack it?"

   "In my purse on the kitchen table," she sighed.  "It's Tyleno.  You can't have aspirin, remember?"

   "You know what I meant," he grumbled as he limped to get the pills.  "You know, for a cancelled meeting, they sure did a lot of talking.  I thought my head was going to implode an hour ago."

    Donna stopped packing. "And whose fault was that? You didn't have to take Toby's meeting."

    "Toby's father had surgery—he went to New York to see him," Josh explained as he took the medication. "And since I was in on those prep meetings with him, I was the logical choice to take his place."

    "But what is your objection to helping your wife pack YOUR apartment so we can move into OUR house?" she hissed.

    "You seem to have it under control," he smirked. "You're a much better organizer and packer than I am. Or so you've informed me dozens of times."

    "Don't get cute."

    "Look," Josh argued, "you were the one who said 'Josh, we need more room. I don't have enough space for my stuff. I'm tired of going into storage to look for something.'  That indicates to me that you are the packing person in the relationship and I really shouldn't intervene."

    "I expected that since your name is also on the paperwork that you would at least help in packing."

    "Why are you packing now anyway?" he asked. "We're not moving until next month."

    "Next month?!" she yelled. "Next month is one week away.  We are moving a week from this _Saturday_. The more I have ready to go, the less time it will take to move."

    "A week from Saturday?" he repeated.

    Donna stomped over to the refrigerator and pointed at a large sign in red marker announcing the date and the words _MOVING DAY_.

    "But I have a thing with Leo that day."

    "Cancel it."

    Josh looked at her. "Donna, you can't just cancel a meeting with the White House Chief of Staff. Oh, and the President's going to stop by as well. You want me to call the leader of the free world and say I can't come?  Donna, we're going to Taiwan and Singapore in a few weeks.  It's the East Asia economic conference.  Should we call them and say the United States isn't participating because you want to move?"

    "What time is your meeting?"

    "It starts at seven and it's going to be about nine hours," he explained though he was certain she knew.  "It's Leo, me and the President then half the leadership is going to parade through the office for the rest of the day along with the guys at State and Labor."

    "Fine," she relented. "You can have your meeting and then come back here. Just don't drag things out.  It might help if you explain to the President that you're ditching your responsibility of helping your wife move."

    "Yeah, I'll get right on that," he scoffed.  

    "If you ever want to have sex again, you'd better be here."

    "Can't we have sex now and that way, I'll owe you my presence—like a loan," Josh offered.  

    "I don't trust you not to default," she snapped. Donna headed to the bedroom. She quickly returned with Josh's pillow in hand. "Hope the briefing memos keep you warm tonight on the couch."

    "But there are boxes on the couch."

    Donna stormed away. "Move them yourself."

****************  
  


    The dog days of summer arrived earlier than expected. July had one blistering day after another.  The move went as Donna expected—hectic and lonely.  Josh made a brief appearance but due to events half way around the globe, he was not a frequent visitor in the new home for the better part of two weeks.  A typhoon struck India and forced the postponement of the economic summit; that was swiftly followed by the assassination of the President of the Philippines by radical fundamentalists.  While the State Department scrambled to deal with the diplomatic morass, the President and his staff flew to New York for a speech to the United Nations. Toby had asked Will to accompany them while Sam stayed in Washington dealing with domestic issues. Leo asked Josh to stay the weekend in New York and travel to his hometown of Westport to attend a fund raiser that was being thrown at the local country club for Senator Dodd. Donna was excited to attend, having wanted to visit the town that Josh once called home. She had managed to convince Josh to stay in Westport rather than drive the hour back and forth from New York.

    The evening of the fund raiser arrived. The Westport Country Club was decorated with several strands of sparkling white lights and the table décor was adorned with silk cloths and fine china. Donna thought that the entire scene was out of a movie. She had been to dozens of fundraisers over the years, but this rivaled any Hollywood affair. The guests arrived in either top-of-the line foreign automobiles or stretch limousines. Donna felt inadequate as she and Josh arrived in a rented Dodge Stratus.

    Josh had separated from Donna earlier in the evening to attend a close door meeting with the Senator and several top DNC staffers. Donna milled around the club, looking for anyone to speak with. It was not as simple as she thought. No one seemed to even make eye contact with her. Everyone seemed to know everyone else. She had noted that during the first moments when she entered the room with Josh. More specifically, so few of the people seemed interested in speaking with Josh. Certainly quite a few knew him as they coolly greeted him by first name, but there was none of the hometown boy comes home atmosphere she had half expected. What she found instead were long and lingering glances that made her think people were shamed she was wearing a gown by an unknown designer or worse, something bought off a rack. Donna felt underdressed with a lack of jewels to shine on her neck and wrist and hands. And the conversations she overheard were perfectly catty – even from the men. This was not a serious political crowd, she realized.

    She listened to their observations and viewed their outrageous behavior from a distance – noting that everyone seemed to be quite comfortable imbibing copious amounts of champagne from the dozens of porters who swirled about the room keeping all the glasses full. With no reason not to act like the locals, Donna stripped a glass off a passing tray and wandered about the room. She overheard many more details than she cared to know about the personal lived of many residents of the area in the process. With each circuit, she glanced at the conference room where Josh was holed up with the Senator. He normally got along well with Dodd so Donna was not worried about fireworks and therefore held no worries that she would be required to keep him in line or diffuse a tense situation. So she drifted around, keeping her glass continually filled and her ears perked to the conversations.  She lost track of time eventually, which she thought odd because she was normally so conscious of it. The again, she reasoned, she had not slept well recently, the trip to New York was stressful and it had been an unpleasant afternoon going to Connecticut. Josh was not happy to be there – nor to be spending the weekend there – and the weather was stifling humid. When she finally came to rest and stood near some doors leading to a terrace she immediately started to feel tipsy and dizzy from the champagne. She scolded herself as she realized the condition she must be in; she had lost count how many glasses she was up to and decided it would be best to get some fresh air.  Taking a deep breath to ready herself, she walked in a nearly straight line to the outdoors, breathing in the warm air.

    At least there was a slight breeze, she rejoiced as she made her way to the edge of the terrace and leaned gratefully on the stone railing for support.  She was thankful her stomach felt fine and was glad for the fresh air to revive her some though the heat was still oppressive and made another drink sound dangerously appetizing.  However, rather than go seek out something, she opted to sober up a little and stare into the midnight blue sky. Her face felt hot and flushed and her brain was hazy, but she was certain Josh would finish soon and take her back to the hotel where she could let this wear off.

    "Look like you could use this," the gentleman said, offering Donna a flute of champagne. 

    He was well dressed and had straight, reddish hair and small, dark eyes hiding behind round-framed glasses.  He was a whisker shorter than Donna and had a pleasant expression that set her at ease.

    "No thanks," she said gratefully, fanning herself as the breeze died down. "I've had too much already."

    "Me too," he said, handing her the glass anyway. "The good stuff will do that to you. Cheers."

    Donna smiled and held the glass, watching the tiny bubbles streak up the sides of the golden liquid in an inviting manner. _What the hell_, she figured as she took a sip.

    "Bad evening?" the gentleman remarked.

    "Not exactly," she said.  "I just thought this would be more fun."

    "Ah, big mistake," he nodded understandingly.  "This is Westport and this is about money—that's never fun."

    "So I'm noticing," she said thickly.

    "My name is Isaac Miller," he introduced himself.  "You look familiar.  Have we met?"

    "I don't think so," Donna said, brushing off what might be a pass by subtly flashing her diamond.  "I'm Donnamella…  I mean, Donna_tella Moss.  Actually, just Donna."_

    "The name is remotely familiar," he shook his head.  "Are you with the Senator's staff or with the state DNC?"

    "Oh, no," she said quickly, sorry for misjudging him.  "I'm… I'm here with… I'm here with my husband.  He's inside some place."

    "I see," Isaac nodded.  "Not a lot of business going on in there tonight – this is just to line the Senator's coffers for the mid-term elections. They're next year."

    "You know a lot about politics," Donna said coyly, letting him believe she was the dumb blond he was taking her to be.

    "I'm the out-going chairman of the local democratic party," he said proudly.  "I'd say it was an ugly caucus that toppled me from my lofty perch, but actually I just missed the last four meetings so they replaced me.  Good thing.  My practice is too busy."

    "You're a lawyer?"

    "No, I'm a dentist," he said.  "I'm just getting started so the business is important.  I was only chairman for nine months; I got a late start on politics.  On everything, actually."

    "Me, too," she said clinking her glass to his and grinning playfully.  He returned the expression.  "So if you're not one of the party leaders, why are you here?  I don't mean that you shouldn't be; I just mean…"

    "They left me on the mailing list," he shrugged.  "I didn't really have the extra thousand dollars for tonight, but my ex-wife just remarried so I figured I'd spend my money for me this month."

    "Oh, divorced, sorry," Donna said, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

    "Don't be," he replied.  "Best thing to happen to me in years.  I get to see my daughters all the time and the ex-wife nearly none of the time.  I couldn't be much happier."

    "So you decided to spend your new found financial freedom on the re-election fund of the senator of a party for which you got booted as leader?" Donna surmised.  "You Connecticut Democrats are an odd lot, you know that?"

    "Actually, I do," Isaac agreed leaning on the stone wall ringing the terrace beside her.  "But people around here will gladly let you know that I am originally from Kansas; I was born there at least.  I moved here when I was in grade school, which is part of the reason I'm here tonight.  I'm looking for a friend of mine.  He's supposed to be here, but I haven't seen him.  He's sort of someone in the party and I figured this is the only time I'd get to see him."

    "You only see him at fundraisers?" Donna asked.  "How good of a friend can he be?"

    "Recently, not very," Isaac admitted.  "It's a long story."

    "It's a long night," Donna said.

    "True," Isaac replied.  "Let me get more champagne—I paid a thousand bucks for it."

    Isaac disappeared then returned with a new bottle of champagne.  He then pulled two chairs into the moonlight near the edge of the terrace where he and Donna could sit and see both those in the ball room and the sweeping landscape of the golf course surrounding them.  They sat quietly for several minutes, drinking liberally from their glasses and easily draining the bottle he had brought back from the ballroom.  Donna felt the full rush of the tingly sensation setting into her nose and fingers and swirling around her brain, confirming she'd certainly had entirely too much to drink, though not so much that she would regret it later.  She was an adult and had chosen this route for the evening, she decided, and she was going to enjoy it as much as possible.  Josh wasn't around to be annoyed with her and no one here knew her or cared that she was there.  She knew that so long as she didn't drink too much more, there would be no worry about creating a scene—though in this climate she wasn't sure what constituted a scene.  When they first arrived just after 8 p.m., she saw one woman who was already being half carried out of the reception appearing red-faced, glassy-eyed and wobbly on her feet.  Rather than dwell on the decadent atmosphere and population around her, Donna started asking her drinking companion his life story.  He, too, had imbibed more than was wise and found himself talking to her like an old friend.

    "I grew up here," he said, pointing to a small cottage to the far right of the course.  "Right there.  My grandfather was the greens keeper.  My grandmother was the head of the wait-staff.  They raised me from grade school onward.  My mother was…. A free spirit, I guess.  She couldn't handle being a mother so she left me with someone who could—her mother.  Now, to fully understand, you have to know Westport.  You're not from here, right?"

    "I was accidentally Canadian for a while," Donna informed him draining her glass again and sloppily pouring the last of the bottle into her glass.  "But mostly I'm from Wisconsin."

    "You and I may have more in common than I thought," Isaac chuckled.  "And I'm not just saying that because we're drunk on the terrace of the same country club."

    He gave Donna an abbreviated tale of his life in the economically upscale town as they polished off a bottle of champagne.  It was not a bad way to be raised, he explained, though there were stigmas attached to him because of his lineage or lack thereof.  He had made a new best friend at school and that made life in the rich town easier.  He had been an average student—not one who stood out in any class in anyway—until he met Colleen.  She was the daughter of a wealthy banker.  They fell in love their senior year of high school; her family even liked and approved of him.  In the fear of losing her, he proposed to her the night they graduated from high school.

    "And I think that's when it all started to go to hell," he said firmly.  "It was stupid.  I see that now, but then…."

    "You were young and in love," Donna shrugged and slurred her words slightly.  "I did a lot of stupid things when I was young, too.  And when you're in love you do really stupid things. I'm sort of a case study in that, only no one has really studied me that I know of so I guess I'm not really one of those things at all."

   "Can I ask you a personal question?"

   "I wouldn't be the least bit surprised," Donna replied with a giggle.

   "Your husband is here?" he asked and she nodded.  "And you're out here with me.  Why?  Are you hiding something from him? Or…"

   "I don't have a drinking problem if that's what you're getting at," Donna assured him.  "I drink just fine.  Tonight I'm just very fine is all."

   "No," Isaac chuckled.  "I was going to ask you—and it's only because you don't look happy and kind of like you want to run away from all this—are you in love with your husband?"

   "I think so," she said and surprised herself with the answer because it never occurred to her until that moment that the answer would be so ambivalent.  "Sometimes I just don't know lately.  Things have been, well, I wouldn't say bad, but I might say not so good and definitely not very wonderful, lately.  I feel like we fight all the time.  I think it's because of the house.  Not that it's possessed, though I think it's bringing us bad luck.  We got married pretty suddenly a couple months ago; it was a spur of the moment thing, but when you're in love or think you are…."

   "I'm guessing that since you're consuming alcohol that it wasn't a shotgun wedding?" he smirked as they clinked glasses.

   "What?" Donna asked then giggled.  "No. It wasn't like that.  It was…  I don't know what it was.  I didn't really have much time to think about it.  But now that I'm a house widow—that's what I call myself.  The house widow.  We bought a house, and I never see him any more outside of work.  We work together except that he's so busy lately mostly I just get notes taped to my computer screen or get an order shouted down the hall as he runs off to his next meeting.  And when I do see him…  He's not what I call a user friendly model.  He's Donna's husband, the beta version.  I knew there would be bugs in the program, I just never thought they would bother me so much."

   "That's just stress," Isaac asserted her.  "Buying a house is one of the most stressful things a couple can do.  If you make it through this without killing each other or divorcing, then you'll be fine.  You'll have taken 10 years off your life with the worry and anxiety, but you'll be fine in the time you have left."

   Donna laughed grateful for the assurance.  She knew what he was saying was logical, but it was also humorous even without her lightheadedness.   

   "Oh," she smiled and tossed her head back to stare at the stars.  "I wish that were true.  You know, this is the first time I think I've relaxed since I got married.  What does that say for me since I'm with a stranger and I've been drinking champagne like it's water?"

   "That you're ready to live in Westport like a native," Isaac said, signaling to a passing porter for two more glasses.  "Think you can handle more?"

   "God, no," Donna refused flatly.  "I mean it this time. My head is spinning and I can't precisely feel my hands and toes – which is actually kind of nice. I just don't know that I'll be able to stand up or walk to the car if I have anymore.  Right now, I'm just on the on the outside edge of tingly.  Anymore and I'll pass through the tingly start singing.  You don't want that, trust me, because I'll sing a song that makes me cry."

   "Fair enough," Isaac said, placing the glasses on the table still in easy reach if needed.  "So what were we talking about?"

   "The crazy things you do for love," Donna reminded him, gazing and sighing at the stars.

    "Yeah, the worst decisions I ever made were done for what I mistook for love," Isaac said.  "I've come to realize that when you think you're in love it's the wrong time to make decisions.  They're never the right choices.  My friends told me I should think it through more when I asked Colleen to marry me, but no.  I was in love.  I knew what I was doing."

   He went on to explain that his best friend at the time was less diplomatic.  The friend had flatly called him stupid and crazy and several other less flattering names that Isaac had not wanted to hear.  The man even turned down a request to be Isaac's best man then refused to even attend the wedding as a guest so certain was he that the marriage was a mistake.  Years later, Isaac said he had forgiven the guy, but only because time proved the man right.  

    "That's awful," Donna gasped at the retelling.  "I mean, he was your friend."

    "Maybe more so then than any other time," Isaac said.  "He was honest with me.  I thought he was just being immature at the time, but five years ago it was apparent that my ex and I were incompatible—that's the nice word the lawyer used.  Hated each other down to the DNA is more accurate.  I think in our entire marriage we only had three good years; the rest… well.  Anyway, we were from different worlds and wanted different things—plus she's half demon, on her mother's side, I'm pretty sure.  Since then, I went back to school; got the rest of my degree; set up a practice and got kicked out of the Westport Democratic Party.  I'm a man on the move, Donna."

    She laughed at his self-depreciating manner.  She also felt a kinship with Isaac; she didn't feel like she belonged in this world either; she normally felt like she could hold her own at these functions—even half drunk on champagne.  However, this was the first time she had been surrounded by money for the sake of having money.  At least in DC, she was recognized as someone with an in to the seat of power.  It had never occurred to her that such a thing mattered to her.  In this wealthy community, she certainly felt it.

    "So your husband works with the senator?" Isaac asked.

    "In a manner of speaking," Donna said, feeling that her position was useless and seeing no need to divulge it and considering her mildly compromised state thought it best to say as little as possible.  "This was supposed to be a mini-vacation.  We had thing in New York, but this was supposed to be a quick meeting and then relaxation time.  I should have known better.  I should have just gone home and unpacked the rest of the boxes—we just moved into our house.  Not that he noticed.  He's not… domestic."

    "Then leave him here—take a cab to the shore and walk on the beach until dawn; there's a beautiful sunrise," Isaac suggested.  "You say he's in politics, so he'll have to forgive you.  If there's one thing I've learned about politically connected people, they have to forgive their friend and family quickly—they're the ones who write the books about you."

    Donna chuckled.  Isaac really did not know a lot about politics, she surmised.  He knew the stereotypical image of politicos and likely knew nothing of the diplomatic manner in which could hate people on a political level.  

    "So what about this friend?" she asked.  "Were you supposed to meet him any place?"

    "No, he doesn't know I'm here," Isaac said.  "We haven't spoken in years."

    "Really?" Donna asked.  "Maybe I'm being too dramatic, but he's not the guy who didn't go to your wedding, is he?"

    Before he could answer, the doors to the terrace opened with a rush and Josh appeared with an exasperated expression on his face.  Donna stood and waited for the diatribe then, after seeing his expression change, realized none would be coming as there was a stranger with her.  She wondered for a moment if she was going to get the pleasure of seeing jealous-Josh as he found her talking with another man—not that she wanted him to feel jealousy, but it would at least be more entertaining than the dry, status-conscious conversation she was surrounded by inside the ballroom.

    "Hi," Josh said in a clipped fashion.

    "You're finished?" Donna asked and fumbled as she tried to stand quickly.

    "Yeah," he said curtly and eyed her companion.  He helped her stand up straight then gave her an appraising look along with the set up around their chairs.  "Had a little champagne?"

   "Maybe a little more than a little," she admitted, gesturing with her fingers roughly an inch apart to demonstrate the difference.  "But it's exquisite and it's free.  You should have some because it's really warm out here, and it's really good stuff."

   "No thanks," Josh said, still looking disapprovingly at her companion.  

    "Oh, Josh, this is….," Donna began an introduction.

    "Isaac, yeah," Josh cut her off.  "How's it going?"

    "It's… uh…," Isaac stammered then readjusted his glasses.  "Hi.  I mean, fine.  Um, Donna, you know him?"

    "Yeah," Josh answered.  "She works for me."

    "You work for the White House?" Isaac asked her.

    "No, she works for me," Josh said, then relented.  "Which, okay, does mean the White House."

    Donna cleared her throat.  "Ahem."

    "What?" Josh asked.  "You do."

    "And?" Donna prompted.

    "And what?" Josh asked puzzled.

    "I'm also his wife," Donna said, turning to Isaac then spinning back to face Josh.  "I'm making you flash cards and testing you until you remember that."

    "I'm sorry?" Isaac asked.  "He's your….  I mean, you're her…."

    Before he could respond, a trill emanated from the cell phone in Josh's hand.  

    "There is a god," Josh sighed then looked at the display screen.  "And apparently his name is Toby."

    He then stepped away and took his call several feet away from Donna and Isaac.

    "I'm sorry," Donna apologized.  "Josh is just…  Wait.  You know him?"

    "Yeah," Isaac said and turned a shade of pink in embarrassment.  "I feel pretty stupid right now, actually.  Here I was spilling my story to you and…  Wow."

    "It's fine," Donna assured him.  "You weren't trying to sabotage the party; you were just saying that you weren't as active in the local committee anymore.  That's not a big deal.  No harm.  Josh really wouldn't even care…."

    "No," he interrupted.  "I didn't mean that.  I meant that you're with him."

    "Yeah," she said, puzzled.  "Oh, that's just his look.  He gets jealous but not really because he's really a pussycat—but don't tell him I said that or he'll be an absolute grouch about it to me later.  He's not going to…  The aggressive dimple wasn't out, was it?  I didn't see it.  Did you?"

    "I… uh….," he in confusion.  "I mean, I hope he knows that I wasn't hitting on you.  I wasn't.  I wouldn't, not with you.  I mean…. You're beautiful and I like you, I just…  You're his wife.  I didn't know he had a wife.  Which is great news.  Shocking, but great."

    "Okay, so I think you're saying that you know Josh?" Donna discerned.  "Oh, right.  You grew up here.  You probably went to school together."

    "Yeah," Isaac said with a rueful smile.  "Growing up, Josh was my best friend."

   "Really?" Donna remarked then the pieces of her conversation fell together.  "Oh, that's so… Wait.  Oh, no.  You mean he's the one who…."

   Before she could say anything further, Josh returned from his call.

   "I'm ready to leave," he said, placing his hand on the small of her back to direct her toward the parking lot.  "You should probably call it an evening, too."

   "She's fine," Isaac said trying to be jovial.  "Have some champagne.  We can sit and talk."

   "She's had enough," Josh said tightly.  "Good night.  Donna, let's go."

   They left quickly.  Donna struggled to keep up with Josh as he strode quickly toward the valet who was fetching their car.  She wasn't certain if it was the uneven ground mixed with her slender high heels or just the evening's intake that was causing her difficulty.  One thing she was certain of was that she didn't need to be dragged home like a disobedient child.  

   "Joshua Lyman," she said, stopping in her tracks, impressing herself that she did not wobble when doing so.  "Whatever's bothering you isn't my fault.  I'm not going to be hauled around like a rag doll.  If you want to walk with me, walk with me.  If you want to run off to the car, do so.  I'll get there in my own time."

   He looked back at her and knew the redness in her cheeks was in part due to the brisk pace he was keeping.  He never gave her enough credit for keeping up with him while she was wearing those treacherous kinds of shoes.  It was one of the many attributes he always meant to compliment her on but never managed to do so.  He sighed then hung his head in conceit as an apology.

   "Thank you," she said, catching up to him and looping her arm through his.  "Now, I don't mind going back to the hotel.  It's a beautiful room and I'm feeling very happy which could benefit you if you behave yourself."

   He sighed and walked a more stately pace to the car.  He drove the few miles back to the luxurious inn.  They returned to the room without much conversation.  Donna, who seemed to have forgotten her anger, opened the doors to the terrace and leaned on the balcony overlooking the lazy river, admiring the view of the moonlit night.

   "Hey," he said, cautiously placing his hands on her waist.  "Careful.""

   She turning around and laced her arms around his neck.  "I'm fine."

   "You're sort of swaying out here," he informed her as he casually coaxed her back into the room. "I think it'll be better if you come inside."

   "I'm happy," she informed him, nuzzling his neck.

   "You get that way when you've had too much champagne," he reminded her.  "You're going to regret this tomorrow."

   "No, because I'm happy tonight," Donna corrected him.  "I'm not drunk.  Not seriously anyway.  When I'm really drunk, I cry.  Right now, I've had just enough to be tingly and happy."

   "Whatever," he relented, then eyed the bottle of champagne he had ordered be placed in the room before they went to the fundraiser.  He had intended to leave the event earlier then return to the room and give Donna what she wanted from the detour to his hometown: a relaxing evening after the hectic summer they were experiencing.  _So much for my plans, he thought. _

   "Why aren't you happy?" she asked.  

   "Because I was working and I don't get happy on champagne," he said.

   "Yes, you do," she waggled a finger at him.  "Like on our wedding night.  But that's not what I meant.  I meant, happy in general.  You're so uptight lately.  You're always on edge.  What is it?"

   "Nothing," he said, though the answer was standing in front of him.  He, too, had noticed that tension between he and Donna was steadily on the rise.  The precise cause of it was unknown to him, but he suspected it was his fault somehow.  He was hoping that with the closing on the house and the moving behind them that things would return to a normal level of crazy.

   "I want you to be happy," she said pulling loose his bow tie.  "I used to be very good at making you happy.  Will you let me try again?"

   "Okay," he grinned.  "How do you propose to accomplish that?"

   "Oh, I have a few ideas," she giggled while leading him toward the bedroom, grabbing the champagne bottle out of the ice bucket as they passed it.  "First, pretend we're in Greece…"

****************  
  


_Main Street___

_Westport__, __CT___

_Saturday, _10:00 am__.____

    Donna strolled along the street, admiring the scenery and ignoring the mild headache still tweaking at her temples.  The evening had ended better than she anticipated so a tiny hangover was a small price to pay—though she was fairly certain she didn't want to see another glass of champagne for at least six months.  It was a humid July day, but the breeze coming off the river made it bearable. Donna gazed into the windows of the stores that lined Main Street. Josh stayed in their suite, catching up on messages and making phone calls. She paused at an antique store to admire a butler's table displayed prominently in front. She didn't dare enter the store—the table was, in her opinion, as much as her take-home salary.

    Donna continued walking and found a coffee shop. It was likely the only place on the street where she could afford anything.  She entered the establishment and found a familiar face instantly.

    "Isaac?" she said, touching the man on the sleeve as he paid for his coffee.

    "Donna?" he said hesitantly.  "I… Uh, hi.  You stayed overnight?  You left so quickly last night, I never got the chance to say good bye.  I was afraid that Josh had driven back to New York.  He seemed kind of pissed off."

    "No," she lied convincingly.  "He was fine.  I convinced him to stay over tonight as well.  We were supposed to stay until Monday, but Josh…."

    "Can't sit still long," Isaac nodded.  "Yeah.  I recall.  Where is he?"

    "Saturday morning and there is oxygen to breathe—he's working," Donna said ruefully.  "The point of coming here was that I could see his hometown and he could relax.  I got almost half of it, so I'm calling the trip a success."

    "You picked the wrong place if you want him to relax," Isaac said, walking with her as they left the shop.

    "Why's that?" she asked.  "I've never heard Josh say anything bad about Westport.  He used to come here for the holidays and to visit his mother when she lived here."

    "I just meant that Josh doesn't relax any place except….," Isaac paused.  "You know, I don't know that there's any place he actually does relax.  He's… or he was, about moments.  In certain situations, he might pass for what some might call relaxed.  He was always just too busy trying to get 10 minutes ahead of the minute yet to come."

    "He's always been like that?" Donna asked skeptically.  "You knew him in grade school.  He was like that when he was a child?"

    "Pretty much," Isaac said.  "He just always seems to think he had to play catch up.  It's not his fault, really.  He's just… a head case or something."

    "Don't say that," Donna began sternly.  "I mean, he just has some peculiarities.  Everyone does."

    "I didn't mean to offend," Isaac apologized.  "Let me start over.  Good morning, Donna.  How are you feeling today?"

   "Nothing I can't handle, thank you," she grinned.  And you?  How did you get home last night?"

   "I drove," he said shamefully.  "I know.  I know.  It was a bad idea; I parked my car in the hedge near my house.  I'm punishing myself today.  No aspirin and only decaf coffee.  That should teach me.  What are your plans while Mr. White House works?"

   "I was going to look around," she shrugged, then gestured to the cell phone in her hand.  "I could be summoned at anytime.  Care to give me an abbreviated tour?"

   "Gladly," Isaac said as they exited to Main Street.  "This is Main Street.  There, that's half the town.  We can see the shore and we'll be done."

   Donna laughed.  She liked his dry sense of humor. He had an easy going manner that was so different from Josh that she found it hard to believe that the two were best friends.  Josh had not mentioned Isaac at all after they left the country club, leading Donna to believe that the two were definitely not in the realm of friends any longer.  However, his lack of character assassination of the man also led her to believe that there was nothing overtly wrong with Isaac or reason Josh could find fault with her getting a tour of the town from him.  So, without any further contemplation, she got into his car and they rolled down the main drag then headed toward the coastline.  

    Isaac was obviously a member in good standing of the local Chamber of Commerce.  He pointed out the unique combination of modern activity with old world charm in words that sounded like they were printed on a brochure.  He showed Donna where Robert Redford, Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward like to dine when they are in town. They then skirted the coastline and the many houses that laid claim to the shorefront property.

    "These houses," Donna gaped.  "Some of them are just summer homes?"

    "Some, yeah," Isaac said.  "There's a lot of money in Westport.  Greenwich up the road is an entire tax bracket above—if you can image.  But Westport does well for itself.  I have a small place about five minutes from Main Street and it cost me half my practice to get the mortgage."

    "Where did Josh live?"

    "You never went to the house when Mrs. Lyman was here?"

    "No," Donna said.  "Josh and I weren't….  That is, we were in Washington most of the time and…."

    "You met her for the first time at the wedding?" Isaac guessed.

    "No, Anna wasn't at the wedding," Donna said quickly.  "I met her before the first election.  Only, it was in New Hampshire when she came to see Josh during the campaign—after the convention.  I spoke with her on the phone a lot—he's not easy to track down when he's in campaign mode.  I got to know her better when she came to Washington after…"

    "When he got shot," Isaac nodded.  "Were you there when it happened?"

    "No," Donna said quietly.  

    "Sorry," Isaac said, feeling embarrassed.  "I didn't mean to pry.  It's just something that…  I wondered.  I didn't know what happened until I saw the headline the next morning.  I tried to call Mrs. Lyman, but there was no answer."

    "She was on one of the first flights to DC once they lifted the flight restrictions," Donna recalled.  

    Isaac fell silent.  It seemed wrong to have this conversation.  An idea occurred to him.

    "You want to see the house?  Josh's home?"

    "I would, but doesn't someone live there?"

    "No," Isaac said.  "The owners are relocating to California.  It's not officially on the market yet, but it will be in a few weeks.  I know the listing agent.  I can arrange a tour.  I'll say you're a prospective buyer."

    Before Donna could argue, he was on the phone weaving some believable yet thoroughly false tale.  They arrived 15 minutes later to a quiet area of long sweeping lawns and mature trees forming a quaint canopy.  They met the lister—a sassy brunette who's peck on the cheek to Isaac was a bit more friendly than professional.  Donna's suspicions about their acquaintanceship was confirmed when Isaac announced he would be showing Donna the house himself.  She said nothing but offered him an expression that said he was not fooling her.

    They pulled passed the rustic stone wall that bordered the road and rolled up the gravel driveway.  It was not like the mansions by the ocean they had viewed just moments before but a stately yet comfortable dwelling befitting a wealthy city lawyer's family.  There was a sun porch on the front of the home and a beautifully landscaped stone patio at the back with lush rose beds bursting with color and fragrance.  Ivy crept up the walls in all the proper places and while it looked finely tailored, it was not hard to image a child rushing in and out of the doors and making for the back yard on some adventure.

    The inside matched the outside with its classy yet comfortable décor.  The kitchen was warm and spacious; the dining area dignified; the living room quaint and comfortable.  There was a den that Isaac said had been Josh's father's study.  It was from there, Isaac said, he spotted the squirrels he detested so staking incursions into the garden in the back.  There were three bedrooms upstairs.  All bright and airy.  The one at the far end of the hall had been Josh's, Isaac explained.  Donna looked at the empty walls and tried to picture them covered with a child's things.  It was easy to do until she thought of that child being Josh.  

    "This was their second home?" she remarked. 

    "Yeah," Isaac said.  "The other was… Well, the remains of it were torn down and they sold the lot.  They bought this one—they were in the process of buying it before the fire—it was being renovated; the kitchen, I think.  Mrs. Lyman told me…"

    "You don't call her Anna?"

    "She asked me to, but it doesn't seem right," Isaac blushed.  "I… uh…. I had a crush on Mrs. Lyman, sort of, when I was a kid.  She was very pretty and…  I didn't really have a mother so Mrs. Lyman doted on me.  I call her Mrs. Lyman because I would be amazingly embarrassed if I didn't."

    "Gotcha," Donna laughed.  "I'm guessing Josh didn't know about your thing for his mom.  He has a bit of a fit when anyone points out that his mother is a woman who men might find interesting."

    "Yeah," Isaac chuckled.  "I remember one time when I went with them to the island…. Hey, you know, I was wrong.  That's the one place where he seems to relax.  The island."

    "The island?"

    "Hmm," Isaac said losing his train of thought.  "Oh, sorry.  Martha's Vineyard.  Josh always called it the island, because, I guess, it's an island.  The Lyman's went there on vacations when he was a kid.  That and some place in Vermont.  I never went to Vermont, but I went to the island with them one summer.  I was 12 so Josh must have been 11."

    "You're older?"

    "About a year," Isaac answered as they returned to the patio outside.  "Eleven months really.  We were in the same grade, though.  Josh started school early, I guess.  Mr. Lyman used to brag that he did because he was so smart.  Mrs. Lyman usually pointed out that she was the one that needed him in school to save her sanity.  She says he was a pest, but that's only because she worships him the same way his father did but didn't want him to be arrogant.  Which, as I'm sure you can attest, was a colossal failure."

   Donna bit her lip not to laugh.  It was true and that was what made it so funny.  Still, she didn't feel laughing at Josh's expense when he wasn't there to defend himself was appropriate.  

   "He's confident in himself when he believes he's right," Donna said diplomatically.

   "You are the politician's wife," Isaac said in such a way that it didn't sound like an insult.  "Figures he'd find himself someone pretty and smart.  I never thought he'd marry—he's so picky and definite about things.  You must be one amazing woman."

   "Thank you," she said quietly, feeling adequate for the first time since entering the town.  "So he was always so…  well, him?"

   "Josh always knew what he wanted to do," Isaac said.  "From as far back as I can remember, he wanted to be a part of politics.  Which tells you how twisted and demented he was as a child.  What kid wants to be a politician?  When the rest of us were still thinking of becoming professional athletes or fighter pilots, Josh wanted to work in the White House.  The first time he told me—I think we were about 10—he told me while we were sitting out here on the patio trading baseball cards.  Actually, he was telling me  I got cheated when I traded some of my cards to Joey Lipton at school.  Anyway, we started talking about the cards and I said I was going to have my own card some day.  Isaac Miller, baseball star.  Typical aspiration for a boy, right?  Josh looks at me and says _I'm going to work for the country_.  I asked why and he said, and I can hear it clear as day even today, _so I can fix things_.  I remember his father was sitting right over there on that bench.  He looked up and grinned.  Mr. Lyman had this grin that only Josh got from him.  I know it because my girls get it from me; you know the one your dad gives you when he's insanely proud but doesn't want to get mushy about it?  _What are you going to fix, Joshua?, he asked.  Josh looks back at him, as confident as can be, and says __Everything_ I can_."_

    Donna looked at the empty bench and tried to envision that grin.  She had seen such a one on her father's face—the last time was on the day he opened the picture of her with the President.  She knew he had been proud of her but that day meant more than she could say then or now.  She thought next of the person who sent that photo to her.  His life was so different from hers.  It was more than just the difference between a condo and the price tag she knew was on the place he once called home.  

    "Josh might have been younger than me on the calendar, but he was way ahead of me like that," Isaac said.  "He just always seemed to know where he should be and what he should be doing.  I guess that's because he knew where he was going.  You could argue that he had an awful childhood in some ways because of what happened, but he did what Josh does best.  He adapted and he moved on.  I don't think he was ever comfortable here in Westport—not comfortable in his skin, I mean.  So much of what happens here is slow and nothing really changes all that much.  It was never dynamic enough for him.  When I went to see him in Boston before my wedding, I really noticed it—how much better he is at being a part of something bigger."

    "Why?"

    "He was so different," Isaac said.  "I was this know-it-all 19 year-old about to get married who had it all figured out.  I was marrying a rich girl and her family was going to support us while I finished school and then it was going to be easy street.  So I went up to Cambridge to see Josh and ask him to be my best man.  We had drifted apart some since graduation, but he was still my best friend.  When I got engaged he didn't say much, which I guess is something because he wasn't one for holding his tongue.  Then we went off to different schools and he didn't come home that summer and I didn't hear from him."

    "He didn't come home?" Donna asked.  "Where did he go?"

    "He stayed in Boston to work and take summer classes," Isaac said, giving her a puzzled look.  "You don't know any of this?  Of course not.  Josh doesn't talk about yesterday.  Sorry, my bad.  I'm rusty on Joshua Lyman etiquette.  Never talk about today what happened yesterday unless it affects tomorrow.  Which is kind of funny when you think about it since he's such a nut about history.  He's still a nut about history, isn't he?"

    "He's a walking encyclopedia some days," Donna assured him.

    "Figures," Isaac scoffed.  "Well, I went to this house he and some guys were renting in Cambridge.  It was odd seeing him first after a year or more.  He looked different.  He was finally 18—a legal adult—and somehow he got taller than me!  There were these girls—no, I mean, women—in his room.  They were going over something for a political science class, and I sat in the corner while they argued with him and then agreed with him and then started arguing again.  Two of them were flirting with him mercilessly; he, naturally, was oblivious to this because he had a point to prove.  Anyway, the study group splits up and we headed out to get something to eat.  There was this profound change in him but it was subtle at the same time.  He was among equals maybe or he finally felt like he was keeping pace with the race or something.  I could see it, even in the way he walked.  There was this air of confidence where before it had been like trepidation bordering on daring.  That was the first time, the only time, I was jealous for who he was rather than what he had.  And it was right about the time that I realized this that he gave it to me, right between the eyes."

    "About your wedding?" Donna asked.

    "About the wedding, about Colleen, about my goals, about my plans to get those goals," Isaac said.  "Things got a little heated; he didn't seem to mind shouting at me in public.  We didn't say much heading back to his place.  I was staying the night so I headed upstairs.  He left.  One of the guys told me he was off with his girl sitting on some dorm discussing the fate and relevance of the ever-expanding universe.  I figured he meant they were having sex back at her place.  But you know what?"

    "They were actually sitting on a dorm roof talking about the world," Donna said.  "Yeah.  I know her.  She's a writer and she published a story about it several years ago."

    "Oh," Isaac said.  "Anyway, he told me what he thought; refused to stand up with me when he was sure I was making a mistake and not even one for the right reasons.  That was a big thing with Josh.  You could make a mistake if it's for the right reasons.  He'd stand by you, even when you were wrong, if you had a good reason for being wrong.  See what I mean?  It's insane and sanctimonious and somehow how it's sage and honorable beyond words that I know.  I started thinking about him when I went through the divorce.  Kept saying that I'd look him up someday and say no hard feelings—not even for not coming to my wedding.  His parents came, but he boycotted out of principle or what he was calling principle.  Then after what happened in Virginia…  I said there was no waiting for someday.  I must have picked up the phone 50 maybe 100 times in the last three years, but something stopped me.  So when I saw he was coming to town, I thought, well, he's coming to me so I have no excuse.  I guess it never occurred to me that the reason we didn't talk in all this time was because he was mad at me."

****************  
  


_Inn_ at National Hall__

_Westport__, __CT___

_The Bulldog Suite_

    The summer breeze gently danced across the river. Donna cinched her robe tighter as she gazed out into the night sky from the balcony. She thought back to the events of the day. She marveled at how modern, yet quaint the Town of Westport was. She knew that Josh didn't want for anything growing up, but she never imagined that his family was wealthy. According to Isaac, the Lymans were considered middle-class by Westport's standards.

    Isaac. There was a man she could commiserate with. Someone who felt as out of touch in this world as she did. Donna glanced down at her diamond. She knew she loved Josh – more than she knew how to love someone. But they were truly from different worlds. His of country clubs and million dollar homes; hers of dairy farms and condos.

    "Donna?" Josh asked, the ends of his hair dripping from his recent shower. "What are you doing out here?"

    "Thinking," she sighed.

    "That can't be good," he smirked. 

   "We're too different," Donna said softly.  "I don't think we ever would have been in the same social circle."

    Josh joined her on the balcony. "Where is this coming from? If Isaac…"

    "No," she cut him off. "Isaac has nothing to do with it. He's a very nice guy who had it rough, especially growing up in this town."

    "His circumstances weren't all that great, yes," he agreed. "But he had an out. He could've left for college. He did decent on his SATs. Instead he decided to marry some girl that he drooled over."

    "He divorced her," she answered.

    "He did?"

    "If you'd bother to speak more than one word sentences to him, you would have known," she remarked.  "He went to the fundraiser to see you."

    "Oh."

    "Mmhmm," Donna nodded. "He and I talked while you were schmoozing with the Senator."

    "You were out there acting like a couple lushes, and I do not schmooze," Josh argued. "Leo wanted me to speak to him about upcoming pieces of legislation. Why I couldn't talk with him on Monday…"

    "I suggested it," she admitted.  "And there was nothing wrong with my conversation with Isaac.  You make it sound tawdry.  We were sharing a friendly drink and I don't recall you being too upset about it later that evening."

    "What are we talking about?" he asked in confusion.

    "I don't recall," Donna exhaled. "I just wanted to say I didn't realize just how different we are until I came here."

    "Donna…"

    "You," she exclaimed, gesturing towards the riverfront, "came from here. I came from Wisconsin."

    "So?"

    "So?" Donna repeated. "Josh, the public library here is better than the one in my high school!"

    Josh shrugged. "We like to read."

    "My mother's condo could fit inside this suite!"

    "No it wouldn't," Josh corrected. 

    "I'm just saying…"

    "Donna," Josh pinched the bridge of his nose. "This town… is just a town. I grew up here; I went to school here. I don't have a trust fund.  I don't live off old money or the bank roll my father socked away.  I lived here.  I left here."

    "The people I've met seem so phony," Donna sniffed.

   "Some of them are," Josh said.  "You find people like that everywhere.  I sort of forget we don't have the monopoly on that in Washington."

    "It's not all bad," she relented.  "I like Isaac.  You made a friendship with Isaac when no one else in this town would."

    "I'm not a saint," Josh groused. "He sat behind me in class."

    "You were his friend," she said simply.  "Why did that change?'

   "I don't know," he said stiffly.  

   "Yes, you do," she countered.  "I know that tone.  Joshua Lyman.  Don't lie to me."

   "He skipped my father's funeral," Josh snapped.  "There.  Am I entitled to the offense I feel?  He practically lived at my house when we were in school.  My father was even his attorney for a few things.  And he died and Isaac Miller didn't even show up to pay his respects.  I can't…. I won't forgive that."

   "He didn't come at all?" Donna asked, surprised at the information.  "The way he spoke about your father today, I would have thought…  It sounded like he cared for your family a lot.  He speaks highly of your mother."

   "Well, apparently they're just words," Josh replied.  "People are more than the sob story they tell you over a bottle of champagne, Donna.  He sent my mother a note a week after the service."

   "Well, that's something," she said.

   "It just said he was very sorry for her loss," Josh continued hotly.  "Very sorry for your loss.  That's it.  No explanation.  Nothing more personal.  Did I get a call or a letter or anything?  No."

   "Josh, it was five years ago," Donna said as she recalled something Isaac told her.  "He was in the middle of his divorce."

   "And I had just lost the most important person in my life unexpectedly," Josh countered.  "You want to take up his cause, go ahead.  I have no time for the Isaac Miller's of this world.  They want attention and sympathy, but they're not the kind of person you can count on.  They don't want to hear the truth and they don't care to be there unless there is something in it for them.  I may be a politician, but I don't treat the people I call friends that way.  Do you?"

     Donna fell silent for a moment.  What he told her seemed so inconsistent with the person she had spent the day with, yet it seemed like a logical reason for Josh to hold such a grudge against someone.  It seemed more logical than him not approving of a friend's choice of spouse.  Donna sighed and realized again that she was too ready to believe people and take them at their word.  It was one of the things she knew caused her problems time and again, but it was also something she had never been able to break herself of.  Not that she felt she must.  It was that instinct, flawed though it was, that drew her to Josh.  It was, she realized, also one of the reasons she agreed to the hasty wedding in Greece.  He had said he would love her forever and she believed him.  Though current events were making her question that from time to time, she was not ready to abandon all hope.

    "Maybe he was not a good friend when your father died, but he does pay his respects," Donna said in the man's defense.  

   "Right."

   "He goes to the cemetery once a month," she said.  "He told me so and I believed him.  He knew right where the stone was.  He went right to it."

   "You went to the cemetery?" Josh asked.  "He brought you there as part of the tour?"

    "He took me to your house, too," Donna said quietly.

    Josh paused. "I'm sorry?"

    "He took me to where you grew up," she replied.

    "W-why did he do that?" Josh stammered. "Does he know the people who live there?"

    Donna shook her head. "No one lives there. It's up for sale."

    "Really?"

    "Yes," Donna said. "Isaac knows the agent, but I think he knows her better than he let on…"

    "Don't give me details," he moaned. "So you went to the house?"

    Donna curled up beside him "Yes, I did.   It's a lovely home. I saw your mother's rose garden."

    Josh grinned. "She loved those roses. She transplanted them from the other house… Some of them were from her mother's rose garden.  Is the stone bench still there?  There used to be one out on the patio. It used to be on the far left under this red maple."

    She smiled. "Still there."

    "My dad used to sit there on Sunday mornings and read the paper," he explained. "Every Sunday until the snow fell or unless it was raining. Didn't matter how cold it got. That's where the squirrels really annoyed him. He…uh, he didn't like squirrels."

    "Do you want to go look at it?" she asked.

    Josh shook his head emphatically. "No. It's in the past, Donna. I don't live there."

    "Are you sure?"

    "Donna," Josh sighed. "There's absolutely nothing here that would make me want to…The only reason I come back here at all is…"

    "I saw that you went there," Donna said softly.  "When we went to the cemetery.  I asked Isaac to take me there so I could pay my respects.  He noticed that you'd been there."

    "I'm sorry?"

     "The pink rock on your sister's headstone," Donna said, her eyes misty as they were when Isaac first explained the significance of the rock.  "You place a rock on the stone as a symbol of continuing love and concern for those you have lost."

    "I know that," Josh paused, and then exhaled. "But how did you know that I put a pink…"

   "Isaac told me," she said.  "He said you always leave a pink stone for her because you remember that it was her favorite color.  I saw that there's an inscription on her stone next to the musical notes.  What do those words say?  Isaac didn't know."

   "It's Hebrew," Josh recalled.  He usually traced the symbols whenever he visited the grave. "It roughly translates to: _Music is God's way of praying without words_.  It's something from my mother; it actually means more than that, but that's the gist of it.  My sister loved music the way my mother does; it was their thing."

    Donna looked at his expression, the one he wore when he was trying to sound casual but that was a mask for the old pain that would never go away.  Donna was suddenly sorry they had come to the town and was mad at herself for nothing thinking this through more.  There was more than the lack of activity that kept Josh away from this place.  There were memories he did not care to have dwelling there as well.  She realized that the current ailments in her marriage were not going to be fixed by taking a trip into Josh's past.  She knew him, knew more about him that most people.  There was no secret to uncover about him.  There was just Josh, and all his quirks and all his annoyances and all his hang-ups.  That she did not like some of his traits and could only stand several others with extreme patience was something she had to accept or a rocky and uncertain road lay in front of the couple.  With a deep pang of regret, she gently caressed his cheek then kissed him softly.

   "We can leave first thing in the morning," she said. 

****

**_Up next: Chapter 11 --  Horatio_******


	11. The Mendoza Line

**Title: HEAVEN AND HELL, _"The _****_Mendoza_****_ Line"_(****_Chapter Eleven_)   
**Authors**: Westwinger247 and Enigmatic Ellie  
**Webpage**:   
**Notes**: _We've changed the title once again._**

_The Lyman house_

_August 16th_

_7pm___

Donna bustled around the living room, tossing the empty boxes into the hallway. It had been one month since they moved into their new home, and she had done nearly all of the unpacking. Josh had not yet unpacked his home office, claiming that he was busy running the country. Donna had offered and after a heated argument for twenty minutes conceded that Josh's office was his space, and she would not touch any boxes inside. 

    Arguments. They had had their share of arguments over the past few weeks – ranging from the way Josh left his dirty clothes on the bathroom floor to his promising to help with the unpacking and arriving home too late to help.  Everything he did got under her skin.  And they weren't little arguments between people who were either tired or hungry or busy.  They often started that way, but then each seem to blossom into something uglier and colder—the kind that left them answering each other in short, clipped tones for days afterward.  Things seemed to be escalating and were heading toward what Donna was now willing to call fights.  His cold and dismissive attitude, his reluctance to take even the slightest interest in their new home and his general distance from what she thought was supposed to be a partnership away from the office had him sleeping on the couch more often than not lately.  Not that she had seen him in a week.  For a variety of reason (all which were logical yet angered her and caused a fight upon Josh's return all the same) she not permitted to travel with the President and his economic advisors when traveled half way across the world to discuss trade markets.  She wasn't sure why Josh was even needed.  The President was an economist and she couldn't think of anything he could tell the President that the man didn't already know quite well on his own.  Telling Josh precisely that spurred yet another verbal bombardment.

   That observation ended in both yelling at each other and Josh leaving for the trip without any attempt at apology.  During the five days he was gone, the only thing she heard from him was through email and it was usually a request for information or a task he wanted done.  There was no personal phone call—though there were several indications on the caller ID that he had attempted to reach her at home but didn't bother to leave a message.  Just as well, she thought.  There was no reason to run up international calling charges just so they could fight when separated by an ocean or two.

    So, as August dwindled in the sweltering heat, Donna refused to go to work on a Saturday so that she could finish the tasks of putting order to their house.  As she emptied the final boxes, her ire with Josh peaked yet again.  She was amazed—usually after the fact—at how quickly her anger burst through the surface.  Some of the latest agitation she knew was due in part to the weather.  The central air system on the house allegedly worked fine.  However, no matter how Donna tried, she could not get it to work for her.  Josh--who's mechanical competency could be typically rivaled only by a three year-old—could dial the proper settings into the system and _Poof, instant comfort.  Every time Donna touched it, she fouled it up somehow.  No matter what she did, one of three things would happen: the system would generate an error and request to be reset; the heat would kick on; or the burglar alarm would go off.  Josh had attempted to explain how to work the system to her—insultingly she thought as each time he did it he spoke slower and slower and use smaller and smaller words (though was actually annoyed her most was that despite the simplistic lessons she could still not remember what he told her to do).  In fact, she noted, there were a lot of things slipping her memory.  She had forgotten her mother's birthday, two lunch dates with her friend Stephanie and the passwords for her email at work.  She was certain her forgetfulness and states of confusion were the effects of the stress at home and the blistering heat that prevented good sleep._

   As she wiped sweat from her forehead, the doorbell chimed three times, signaling a visitor. Donna ceased her under the breath cursing of her husband for owning so many books that she never thought he would read ever again and made her way to the front door. The chime started again, followed by rapid knocking. Donna took a deep breath—determined not to snap the head off whomever was intruding upon her afternoon off.  With a painted on smile, Donna opened the door.

    "Hi!" she said greeting the very first visitor to the house.

    Zoey Bartlet pointed an accusing finger at her. "You held out on me!"

    "I'm sorry?"

    "How could you?" Zoey huffed. "I was in on the whole thing – well, at least a part of it. And I had to hear it at a briefing four months ago!"

    "Oh, you mean…" Donna understood and waved her left hand. "Zoey, I'm sorry.  I got your message back in May."

   "It was April," Zoey informed her.  

   "Yes, April," Donna shook her head wearily.  "I'm sorry.  I meant to get in touch with you, but then there was….  I've been so busy.  And you had graduation and…  My life if crazy and I don't get medication.  Do you want to come in?"

   "With that kind of an invite, sure," Zoey nodded.  "Am I at least the first visitor to Chez Lyman?"

   "Actually, yes," Donna said, stepping aside and letting her enter while the agents on the detail milled around the perimeter.  "Stay here more than an hour and you'll probably know the place better than Josh does."

   "Ooo, this is your ring?" Zoey grabbed Donna hand as she stepped into the door way then glared at the glittering object. "It's gorgeous!"

        "Yeah," she said tiredly; she was growing weary of the praise people gave the shiny rocks.  They were nice, she agreed, but there were moments lately when she could think of a better way to spend the money—namely socialization and behavioral lessons for her husband. 

   "Where did he get it?"

   "Harry Winston," Donna said, trying not to sound snotty though she wasn't sure that was possible considering the acclaimed jeweler.  "His grandfather worked with the actual Harry Winston so there's a family connection to someone there still.  I don't know the whole story.  Someone obviously helped him pick it out; Josh isn't… He'd need help."

   "You got a ring by Harry Winston, took off for a wedding in Greece and honeymoon in Corfu," Zoey surmised.  "How is it that you manage to sound so blasé about it just four months later?  And what makes you you think that a simple _I've been busy is going to get you forgiveness from Zoey?"_

   "Would bribery help?" Donna offered as she headed toward the living room which contained the last of the unpacked boxes.  "I actually bought you something—compensation for you part in that little scheme—while I was in Greece."

   "Um," Donna paused and tried to cull her thoughts—not an easy process in recent days.  Since returning from Connecticut that week, a heat wave to rival Hell had struck the region and sleep was not coming easily with the A/C snafus.  Donna was dreading sleeping in the 2500 square foot oven she called a house.  

   "Oh you didn't have to do that," Zoey paused then quickly added. "What did you get me?"

   "I actually just came across it today," Donna said.  "I was going to give it to you when I called you, which as you noted, I forgot.  It's not much.  It's a pooka necklace made from shells found on the beach in Athens.  The color pattern in the shells is supposed to symbolize life and in Greek the word Zoe means life, so…  Well, it was made for you"

    "Wow," she said surveying the smooth shells strung closely together.  Then she surveyed the room, observing the few remaining boxes disgorging their contents.  "How's the moving in process?"

    "Almost done," Donna sighed. "I know it's a big house – and I'm not complaining that it is – but when you're the only one doing it…"

    "Josh isn't helping, huh?" Zoey concluded.  "Well, you sort of had to see that coming.  You'll probably end up divorcing him by Thanksgiving; there's a betting pool about it, you know."

   "Can I get in on it?"

   "Probably," Zoey said though she did not like the tone in Donna's voice.  It didn't sound like she was kidding entirely.  "So, Josh is not being helpful.  Is that why most of these boxes say _Josh's Junk_?"

   "They're _his," Donna hissed.  "I was going to move them into his office since he doesn't seem able or interested in doing so.  I think it's mostly just books and stuff—and can you explain why a human being who barely has time to read the headlines in a paper has so many books?"  _

   "I won't comment on the books," Zoey said.  "You could build a house out of the ones my father has back in New Hampshire—and I mean just those he's only read twice."

   "Some of it is old financial record," Donna continued, not wanting to comment on the President's fascination with books no one else would likely read even if paid.  "I don't think I realized it before, but  Josh is like a closet geek about records.  He might even like being audited just to show the IRS that he has all the paperwork they could possibly want."

     "The walls look pretty bar," Zoey said swiftly changing subjects from anything that might bring up the apparently unpleasant topic of Josh.  "I was hoping to see some nice shots of Greece.  Do you have any wedding pictures?"

   "I actually just dropped off the negatives to get some copies done for my mother," Donna sighed.  "She's not email competent and can't open the attachments I've sent her so she needs the real thing.  The pictures themselves are still in a box upstairs waiting to be put in the beautiful album I got at my shower but which I have no time to put together because I am a house widow."

   "Oh," Zoey sighed as she peered into Josh's junk.  "I was hoping to see something from your trip or the wedding; maybe some other time."

   "You can't be half as disappointed as I am," Donna said dejectedly.  "I've been going nuts here trying to find the disc with the wedding on it.  Josh's friend Mark filmed the ceremony and sent us it on DVD, but I didn't get a chance to see it before it got packed.  I told him where to put it and he managed to screw that up, too.  Now, I can't find it.  I thought I'd come across it by now, but pretty much all that's left is Josh's junk.  I can't believe he lost my wedding!" 

    "Donna," Zoey said, after rifling through one of the boxes marked Josh's Junk. "I found a disk here. It says '_Josh and Donna's wedding_."

    Donna lifted her head out of a box. "What? Really? Where was it?"

    "In this box," Zoey pointed out.

    Donna walked over to the box. "1996 Tax Records? I didn't tell him to put it in this box.  Why would he put it there?"

    "It's Josh."

    "But it's not even my box," Donna seethed. "I told him to put the disc in a box that goes in the living room. He's impossible!"

   Rather than wait for a further scathing remark, Zoey took the disc and put it into the player in the entertainment center.  She turned on the TV and hit play.  Instantly, images of Athens appeared – trips to the local shops, tours of the Parthenon and Acropolis and shots of the Mediterranean. Those images faded to black and a new scene began.

    The picture was stable and clear.  The sky was a deep azure.  The camera panned the horizon then returned to the outdoor venue looking over the beckoning sea.   Josh was in the frame as well, speaking with Mark.  He appeared relaxed and almost bored with the afternoon.  His demeanor changed quickly several moments later.  The expression on his face was the definition of breathless.  He appeared entranced and fixated.

    The object of his fascination was shown next as the camera turned to the left.  Donna was approaching carrying what appeared to be lilies.  Her dress was born out of the history of Greece.  Rather than being a traditional wedding frock, it was composed of two pieces of liquid white silk that draped and clung to her body.  The top was off the shoulder on one side and gathered in a golden starburst on the other.  Her skirt was cinched in a similar broach at the hip, showing a fair amount of skin at the midriff.  Her hair was piled in loose loops on her head as several tendrils of her blond tresses cascaded down to her neck.  Her feet were threaded into strappy heels that appeared to be made of golden floss.   

    "Hi," she said, beaming at Josh as she reached his side.

    "You're a goddess," he said softly, sending an appreciative pink hue into her cheeks and a glistening of tears to appear in her eyes as he leaned in and kissed her tenderly.

    "That's afterwards," Mark chided.

    "I don't care," he stated.  "I had to."

    The official began the ceremony and it was apparent neither participant was listening to his words closely as they gazed at each other, possibly not believing what was occurring.  When the time came for responses, Mark had to elbow Josh after several seconds of embarrassing silence.

    "Josh, your line," Mark said, trying not to laugh.  "He asked if you want to do this.  You interested?"

    "Okay," Josh said and nodded.  The official shook his head and grinned before continuing over Mark's observation of "you're pathetic."

    Donna, however, was more focused on the proceedings by this point.  She was practically trembling as she smiled at Josh—her expression saying she agreed with Mark but that she liked her groom that way.  The official began this invocation then moved on to his question for Donna.

    "Donnatella Moss, do you…"

    "Yes," she said instantly, not letting him finish.  "I do."

    The official and the two men facing her smirked as she stared back, unsure what was so funny.  Josh, in control of his mental faculties again, stepped in.

    "Uh, Donna?"

    "What?" she whispered, with puzzlement on her face. "He doesn't have to ask me twice."

    "Yeah, Donna," he replied. "He has to ask you once."

    "I was ready is all," she said in her defense.  

    "Okay," Josh said understandingly.  

    The entire question was asked and Donna responded demurely, as though her aggressive approach of a moment before had not occurred.  The rings were exchanged; by then the tears were no longer blistering in Donna's eyes but flowed gently down her face as she smiled brighter than the sun above.  

    "Wow," Zoey said as the ceremony drew to a close.  She turned to speak to Donna whose expression matched the digital image of her on the screen.  "That was so romantic; I can't believe Josh was even a part of it."

    "I know," Donna sniffled and shivered slightly as she watched the kiss fade from the screen.  Watching it brought a warm flush to her face.

    "Whoa," Zoey agreed, as she watched their lips part.  "Okay, I think I need some water and you should turn the fan on.  Wow.  Who'd have thought that Josh was so—"

    "What was that," Donna interrupted, pausing the frame and reversing the play several seconds.

    "It looked like he….," Zoey began.  "He did.  He just rolled his eyes at you.  Okay, now I believe that was Josh."

    "Uh," Donna huffed.  "What did he do that for?  Right after I turned my back to get my flowers from Mark's girlfriend, he rolled his eyes at me.  My beautiful wedding and he does that!"

    "I'm sure it's nothing," Zoey said helplessly.  "Maybe he was just relieved that the…"

    "This is why the disc was stuffed in his old tax records," Donna said, getting up and stabbing her finger at the eject button.  "He knew I'd see that.  He thought he could hide it.  Oh, I don't think so!"

   Zoey was looking for a polite and quick exit when Josh suddenly entered the house having finished at the office early.  He was hoping to assist somewhat in Donna's masochistic effort to bring order to the house in record time.  He hoped that doing so would at least let him sleep in his own bed again.  The couch was turning his spine into a question mark.  He had tried to be home as much as possible, but Donna seemed to have forgotten that the nation didn't run on a set schedule and his job was necessarily linked to that chaos.  He was nearly beyond finding reason for her relentless attacks on him.  Outside the office, she appeared to question every thing he did and search for hidden motives to accuse him of shirking his duties as her spouse.  By the time he found himself trying to explain why it wasn't his fault that the President specifically requested he accompany him to Tokyo and Manila two weeks earlier, Josh wasn't sure anything he said mattered anymore.  Coming home was something he did with unease more and more.  However, this afternoon, he was pleased to find someone other than just his wife in the house.  

    "Zoey, what kind of trouble are you starting or should I not even ask?" Josh asked as he entered the living room.

    Zoey flashed a huge grin, jumped off the couch and hugged Josh.

    "Okay, what is she doing?" Josh said cautiously.

    "Nothing," Zoey replied. "I'm just so happy for you two, that's all."  Then added softly: "Be careful.  You're in trouble."

    "Okay," he nodded suspiciously.

    "Sweep me off to Greece, Josh," Zoey sighed loudly, placing her head on his shoulder.

    "I gave at the office," he smirked.

    "So it seems."

    Josh gently pushed Zoey away and took a seat next to Donna. "What are you doing here besides harassing me?"

    "I don't believe you," Donna accused him.

    "What now?" he sighed. "I've been here for a total of ten seconds.  I can't possibly have…"

    "Well, I see by the hands on my watch," Zoey interrupted, tapping her naked wrist, "that it's time to go."

    Zoey waved goodbye to Donna and smacked Josh on his shoulder as she left the house.

    "Rule number one," Josh declared, hoping to bring levity to the situation, "no more Zoey here without warning."

    "I didn't know she was coming, and I think you need to actually take an active role in living here before you start laying down rules," Donna said crossly.  "Besides, it was a pleasant surprise.  I finally had someone other than myself to talk to while I was home.  Know what I find interesting?"

   "I can categorically say no," Josh sighed as the throbbing in his temples—the one that seemed to be a constant visitor whenever he was in this house.

   "She was more interested in watching our wedding video than you were," Donna informed him.  "Wonder why?"

    "I've seen it…" Josh paused, and then winced.

    "I'm sorry," Donna said in a calculating manner.  He was tired; she could see that from the haggard look on his face.  Tripping him up was easy and pleased her.  "You what?"

    "Nothing," he said quickly, moving toward the couch.

    "Josh."

   "How is it you manage to say my name and it sounds like a curse," he wondered—not for the first time in the last few weeks.  However, as he stare bored into his skull he felt the necessity to defend his action.   "I don't remember rolling my eyes at you.  Mark called to say the items were on their way, and he mentioned that I might want to…."

    "He told you," she glared at him. "He told you that you would get in trouble so you watched the wedding – _without me_ – and then promptly hid it in a box that you knew I wouldn't open because it was yours."

    "That's not the reason," he countered.

    "Really?" she arched an eyebrow. "Then why did you hide the video in the box marked _1996 Tax Records?!"_

    "Because it was the nearest box to me," he said simply.

    "Josh…"

    "That's the truth, Donna," Josh sighed. "You told me to put it in a box."

   "I said put it in a box that's going in the living room," she corrected.

   "I thought you said put it in a box in the living room," he replied.  "There were twelve boxes in the living room. I put it in the nearest one."

    "Oh," she replied docilely after a lengthy pause.

    "Oh?" Josh asked. "I get Hurricane Donna when I get home and once I tell you the reason all I get is '_Oh'_?"

    "I'm sorry," Donna apologized. "I jumped to a conclusion that I shouldn't have. I just…I got angry."

    Josh nodded. "You've been getting angry a lot lately. It was an honest mistake, Donna.  When did you start assuming I was deceitful?"

   "I didn't," she said, though from her tone it was obvious she had.

   "Whatever," he said, letting the moment pass.  He was growing weary of her temper flares.  He dropped onto the couch and considered buying stock in the makers of Tyleno as he found getting through a day without it to relieve this newly manifested stress headaches was unusual.  

    "So why did you do it?" Donna took a seat next to him.

    "Do what?" he asked.

    "Roll your eyes," she explained. "Everything was so beautiful. You called me a goddess. And then you roll your eyes after the ceremony was finished. Did it not suit you or something?"

    "Donna," Josh moaned. "I…I rolled my eyes because…I don't even remember doing it, but I would guess from my expression and how nervous I was, that I did it because I was thankful that my knees didn't give out; that I was amazed that I was still standing upright. What do you want me to say?"

    Donna maneuvered herself onto Josh's lap and kissed him. "That'll do."

    _Good answer, he said to himself and tried not to show his exasperation over the jarring 180 degree turn her mood had done yet again.  He was going to get whiplash if this continued._

****************  
  


_The White House_

_August 20th , __11:30 a.m.___

    Charlie closed the door to the Oval Office and proceeded to his desk. He sat down and marked the meeting that was in progress off his schedule and began to gather notes for the President's next meeting. He glanced up from his work and noticed Toby sitting in the Mural Room reading.  Curious, and worried he might have a miscue on his schedule, Charlie approached the speech writer.

    "Toby, do you need to speak with the President?" he asked from the doorway.

    "No, I do not," the speechwriter replied as he read. "I'm just reading."

    "Not that it matters right now, but why are you doing it in here?" Charlie continued. "Is there something wrong with your office?  I heard Sam has a bee in his office."

   "Yeah," Toby said, still reading.

   "Are you allergic to bees?"

   "No," Toby said.  "And for the record, I think Sam is just scared of them rather than allergic to them.  I have no proof of that, but he screamed like a little girl with it buzzed around him and I think the allergy thing is just a rouse."

   "Okay," Charlie said slowly.   "So you're deputy is…."

   "I'm on the cusp between the words wuss and sissy, but it's odds on I'll go with sissy," Toby explained as he intently scrutinized the box score from the previous night's games.

   "And you've decided to stake out the Mural Room to help you make that cut?"

   Toby looked up from his reading. "I haven't – yet. I'm not going back into my office until…"

   Toby paused and a slight pinkness rose in his cheeks that Charlie found curious.

   "Until what?" Charlie asked.  "Is Sam having the place fummagated?"

   "Sam, for once, isn't the real problem," Toby said.  "It's estrogen."

   "I'm sorry?"

   "Estrogen," Toby said testily.  "The estrogen level in the general nerve center of the communication's department needs to drop considerably before I can return. I'm waist-deep in it Charlie – waist-deep."

    "Okay," Charlie sighed, choosing his next words carefully. "Are you avoiding your ex-wife?"

    "No," Toby answered. "Andy's nowhere near this building. She's in Maryland at a rally or something—out in this heat that makes people melt.  I mean it, I think people could literally melt out there today, Charlie.  Not that I mind.  I just have a list of people I would like to go first."

   "She's the keynote speaker at a forum focusing on amending Title IX," Charlie said, pointing to a headline in the paper laying on the coffee table.  "It's right there on the front page.  So, is that why the estrogen level is…."

    "No," Toby replied curtly.  "Girls in sports doesn't involve estrogen.  Well, not the kind I'm dealing with today.  No, this is the bad kind."

   "There's bad estrogen?"

   "When you have to wade through it to find out that Wells seven full innings last night and Rivera held on to send Boston home with another loss, then yeah, it's the bad kind," Toby explained.  Seeing the perplexed look on Charlie's face, he elaborated further.  "Ginger became engaged last night.  And there's just so much water works and cooing I can take."

    "Cooing?" Charlie arched an eyebrow. "You know what that word means?"

    "I'm a speechwriter, Charlie," Toby replied. "Of course I know what it means. And knowing what it means gives me ample opportunity to escape from ever having to be witness to it in action."

    Charlie put notes in a folder. "Can't you hide somewhere else? Like the Situation Room?"

    "Surprisingly, Charlie, they won't let me in," Toby grumbled. "I've been here for half an hour and this is the first time you've noticed me. I'm not disturbing anything nor am I needed for anything at the current moment. So I'm taking the time to read the box scores without any interrupt…"

    "There you are," CJ said as she breezed in. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

    "Apparently not hard enough," Toby replied. "What do you need?"

    "How's your estrogen level CJ?" Charlie piped in.

    "My what?"

    "Toby doesn't need a lot of estrogen around him today," Charlie smirked. "Apparently he's had his fill in his office, and he's on overload."

    CJ grinned. "This has to do with Ginger's thing, huh?"

    Charlie nodded. "Yes. Toby is in anti-cooing mode today. But you don't have to ask him if he knows the word. He does."

    "Anti-…?" CJ turned to Toby. "Okay, listen Grumpy Dwarf. Your assistant is engaged. Be happy for her and move on. I need a copy of the President's remarks for the thing next week. So if you could please venture into your office long enough to get me those remarks, my day can go off more pleasantly than having to play detective and track you down."

    "Fine," Toby sighed as he deposited the newspaper in the trash. "I was done reading anyway."

    "Want me to have the agents do a sweep of your office first?" Charlie offered.

    "I don't like you very much right now."

***************  
  


_The Oval Office_

_Wednesday, __9 pm_

    "Charlie!" Bartlet bellowed.

    The young aide entered. "Yes, sir?"

    "Am I done?" the president asked, packing his bag.

     Charlie checked his PDA. "Yes, sir. You're all done for the week."

    "Are you sure?  I think I have more in me."

    Charlie smiled. "Yes, sir. You're done."

   "What about you?" Bartlet asked eagerly.  "Do you need any help out there?  I could be helpful.  Maybe do some filing."

   "Filing?" Charlie asked.  "You're the President of the United States."

   "Which hopefully means I know how to alphabetize things or follow a simple numbering convention," Bartlet argued.  "I feel invigorated and I'm eager to dig in and work on something."

   "Josh has projections for the Budget," Charlie said.  

   "I said I'm eager, no into self-punishment.," Bartlet groaned.

   "So no Budget?"

   "And no Josh," Bartlet shook his head.  "He's been a tad grumpy lately and when Josh is grumpy he's no fun.  He staffed me all day and didn't even smirk at one of my jokes."

   "Maybe that's because he didn't think any of them were funny," Charlie offered, trying to be helpful.

   "My jokes are always funny," Bartlet commanded.

   "Yes, sir," Charlie nodded.  "Mr. President, there is nothing left on your schedule for the evening.  Except…"

   "No," Bartlet said.  "I'm not going on."

   "Yes, sir," Charlie informed him, taking the man's jacket and holding it out for him.  "You're vacation started an hour ago."

   "That's not a vacation," the President said.  "That's confinement at a five-star maximum security detention center."

   "It's Camp David," Charlie reminded him.  "I like Camp David."

   "Good, you go with my wife and daughters," Bartlet offered.

   "Okay," Charlie nodded.

   "No you don't," Bartlet growled.  "You think I'm going to let you go there with them, without me, to supervise things?"

   "I wasn't aware I needed supervision," Charlie said, enjoying his employer's discomfort.  

   "It's more like keeping you all in check," Bartlet said.  "Why should you get to enjoy my vacation?"

   "You can enjoy it to, Mr. President," Charlie said positively.  "Camp David is a great retreat."

    "It's punishment, Charlie," Bartlet groused. "I wanted to go to my farm—my own home—for my vacation since our trip to Sydney was canceled."

    "They're testing the electrical lines, sir," Charlie responded. "From the storm a couple of weeks ago. The Secret Service wants to make sure everything is up and running."

    "I'm still being punished," the President repeated.

    "Yes, sir."

    Bartlet stuffed some folders into his briefcase. "Abbey's pissed that she missed the opera in Sydney so she's dragging the whole family to this godforsaken place to relax."

    "I think it will be nice," Charlie said. "You haven't seen Ellie or Elizabeth since the Inauguration."

    "Ellie's bringing that boyfriend of hers," Bartlet grumbled. "I still don't like him."

    "Yes, sir," the aide nodded. "I can see how dating a pediatrician can be a bad thing for Ellie."

    The President glared at him. "You'll understand someday when you become a father, Charlie. All men are bad for their little girls.  That includes you, by the way."

    "Of course, Mr. President," Charlie smiled.  "Mrs. Bartlet said that you are both packed and she is ready to leave at any time. She'd like remind you that the longer you stall the more--."

    Bartlet sighed cutting him off.  "Look, is there any way I could order Congress into doing something stupid so I have to stay?"

    "They're still out on summer recess."

   "Where's Josh?" Bartlet asked in a last ditch effort.  "He's as good at fixing a crisis as causing one; can't he do something that will…."

   "He's all about the Budget right now, sir," Charlie said apologetically.  "I don't think he's leaving his office much."

    "I can't win."

****************  
  


_Briefing Room_

_Thursday, __10 am_

    The press milled around the briefing room as they waited for CJ. It was a relatively light news day as the President was vacationing at Camp David. Some reporters were discussing work, while the other turned to the subject of baseball.

    "I'm telling you," Kris began, "the Giants are the team to beat this year. Their pitching is solid; their bullpen nearly unbeatable and – oh yes – Barry Bonds plays for them."

    "If they're so unbeatable," Bobby argued, "then why have they lost to the Montreal Expos every single time they've met?"

    Kris shrugged. "The Expos have to win sometime, don't they?"

    Danny joined the group. "What's going on?"

    "Kris seems to think that the Giants have a shot this year," Bobby explained. "She's obviously delusional because the Braves will clinch the East in a matter of weeks, and it's one step closer to the championship."

    "Sure," Danny nodded. "That is, if you call winning only one world series out of four appearances strength. But who am I to say? The Orioles haven't exactly been the American League's version of a powerhouse."

    "They were in the world series last year," Kris pointed out. "That's gotta count for something."

   "They got spanked by the Mets," Bobby reminded her.

    "That wasn't the worst of it," Danny grumbled.

   "Josh?" Kris recalled.

   "Who?" Bobby asked.

   "Josh Lyman," Kris elaborated.

   "What's Josh got to do with the Orioles losing?"

   "No, it's the part about the Mets winning that involves him," Danny said.  "Or, so you'd think listening to him, and believe me you don't want to.  He was unbearable last year.  Here he was, running a presidential campaign and he still managed to throw in a jab or seven about the series at me—even during an interview.  He made this comment about…. Well, it was about my team and curling—you know the thing with the big stone they play on ice?"

   "The Canadian thing?"

   "Yeah," Danny said, still mildly insulted even though it had been funny.  "I guess you had to be there to fully understand.  You know, I could have done something about that.  Put in the story."

   "But you didn't," Kris reminded him.

   "I was hurting because my Orioles were getting spanked," Danny shrugged.

   "Pay back?" Bobby asked.

   "Big time," Danny nodded.  "With the Mets in the basement this year, I'm savoring my revenge."

   "You gotta feel bad for Donna," Bobby observed—still smarting over the abrupt marriage of the blond beauty to Atila the Politician.  He was always deeply fond of Donna—and her legs.  

   "How so?" Danny asked, unaware Donna was a baseball fan.

   "She has to put up with him and his grumblings 24 hours a day," Bobby sighed.

   "Not lately," Kris said.

   "How's that?" Danny asked.

   "I heard they're not speaking to each other," she said, spreading the gossip she heard over lunch the previous day.  "Whirlwind romance is either turning into something like a tornado or just fizzling out entirely."

   "I wouldn't bet on it," Danny said.

   "It's what I heard," Kris said.

   "Take your seats," came Carol's voice over the speaker. "The briefing will start now."

    "You said you've had revenge?" Bobby asked, inwardly pleased to hear the marital news. "What was it?"

    "Let's just say that Josh's inbox is inundated every so often with articles about curling."

****************  
  


_Camp David___

_Thursday, __5 p.m._

    "Mrs. Bartlet asked me to bring you your coffee," Charlie said as President Bartlet said on the porch, reading the newspaper. 

    "Thank you," the President replied, taking the cup. "She sent you out here, huh?"

    "Yes, sir."

    "It's because she didn't want to hear me gripe about being here."

    Charlie smirked. "It's quite possible, sir."

    Bartlet pointed to a chair beside him. "You, however, wouldn't mind staying with me, would you Charlie?"

   "Not at all, sir," the aide said begrudgingly as he took a seat.

    The President returned to his reading. "Here I am, barely into my second term and the media is already trying to choose my successor. They can never be satisfied."

    "No sir," Charlie nodded as he picked up the sports section. "Give them an inch and they want a mile."

    "That's cliché but true—I suppose that's why it's a cliché," Bartlet agreed. "I mean, _The Washington Post_ already has a field of three.  Now, these two, I think have some merit."

   "Senator Kerry and Congressman Gephardt?"

   "I'm not saying I support either, but there's logic behind those candidacies," Bartlet said.  "But this one?  Randall Kyle?  I don't know."

   "Is that the governor of North Carolina?" Charlie asked.

    Bartlet nodded. "Apparently he gave a speech at the National Governor's Association that some deemed to be his unofficial declaration of wanting to be president. He can have it now if it gets me out of here."

    Charlie nodded as he continued to read the sports section.

   "Josh thinks Kyle could be a serious contender," Charlie said in the silence.

   "How's that?" the President asked looking over his glasses.

   "Josh and Toby were talking about some polling the DNC did," Charlie replied.  "Toby thinks the Governor of Oregon…"

   "Phil Patterson?"

   "Yeah, and Josh was more interested in Kyle," Charlie said.  

   "Are they looking for a new boss?"  

   "No, I think they were bemoaning the future of the Democratic Party," Charlie recalled.  "Josh said Kyle is the most likely to get the nod of the early candidates but that he didn't put much stock in the man's ability to administer.  I'm not sure what he meant, but he seemed to understand so I just nodded."

   "I do that when he speaks a lot, too," Bartlet confessed.  "But that's mostly because I don't care."

   "Yes, sir."

    "Did you know that three presidents have come from North Carolina?" Bartlet asked.

    "I did not," Charlie replied.

    "James Polk, Andrew Jackson – Leo's favorite – and Andrew Johnson," Bartlet said.

    "Andrew Johnson was impeached," Charlie pointed out.

    The President nodded. "By one vote. Johnson went over to the guy's house and thanked him.  Can you believe that?  Walked to the guy's house and introduced himself.  Hi, I'm the President and you saved my sorry…  You know, they say things are more civilized today, but I'm not so sure.  That's appreciation and you don't see that much these days."

   "That might have something to do with the Secret Service," Charlie offered.  "They don't normally like it when you go door to door."

   "True," Bartlet agreed.  "But Kyle?  Josh seriously thinks he's a contender?  The man is just is starting his second term as Governor of North Carolina."

   "Sometimes we elect governors," Charlie offered.

   "He graduated from the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill with a degree in political science and a law degree from Harvard," Bartlet went through the man's biography, ignoring his aide's attempt at funny.

    "Good schools," Charlie noted.

    Bartlet glanced at his aide and continued his lesson. "The University of North Carolina was the first public school in the country. It was charted December 11, 1789. That's something to be commended."

   "Don't suppose it was integrated," Charlie commented.

   "I didn't say it was perfect," Bartlet stated.  "North Carolina.  They claim they didn't secede during the Civil War.  Symanics, if you ask me.  It's because of that war that they got their nickname: Tar Heels. Do you know what a Tar Heel is?"

   Charlie nodded and started his own trivia indulgence.  

    "During the civil war, North Carolinians successfully fought a battle alone after supporting troops were driven out of the field," Charlie began. "When the regiment returned, one was rumored to say that he was going to put tar on their heels to make them stick better in the next fight."

    Bartlet looked at his aide. "How did you know that?"

    "North Carolina was one of my college choices," Charlie shrugged. "Before everything happened."

    "You did your research," Bartlet remarked.

    "I had game even then."

    There was a small bit of silence as both men continued to read. 

    "Carolina is derived from the Latin world _Carolus," Bartlet stated._

    Charlie nodded. "Which means Charles?"

    "Yes," the President said. "So I'm going to start calling you _Carolus."_

    "Yes, sir," Charlie sighed. "Zoey's expecting me to…"

    "What about Zoey?" Bartlet asked, removing his glasses.

    "Dad," Zoey chided as she entered the sunroom. "Are you holding Charlie hostage? We're supposed to go on a hike."

    Bartlet waved them off. "Go. You're released, Carolus."

    "Thank you, Mr. President," Charlie replied as he stood.

    "One more thing," the President said. "_Esse__ Quam Videri."_

    "Sir?"

    "It means to be rather than to seem," Bartlet explained. "It's their state motto."

    "I'll keep that in mind," Charlie said as he escorted Zoey out of the room.

    "Charlie," the President called one final time, summoning his aide back.

   "Yes, sir?"

   "Notre Dame's a good school too," Bartlet returned to his reading. "Randy Kyle. Southern governor as president? Too moderate for my taste."

****************  
  


_CJ's office_

_10 pm___

    "Hey," Toby said as he entered CJ's office. "Nice save with the thing."

    "Thanks," she replied as she kicked her feet up on her desk. "What are you doing here? I'd thought you'd be locked away with Sam and the speechwriters."

    Toby took a seat on her couch. "I sent them back to rewrite. It's like reading a report that was done in crayon. I swear the only one who's batting above the Mendoza line is Bailey."

    "What did Justice Mendoza do?"

    "What?" Toby asked. "CJ, I'm not talking about Justice Mendoza. I'm talking about the Mendoza line. You know the one in baseball?"

    "I knew that," she said quickly and then caught Toby's stare. "Okay, no I don't."

    "The Mendoza line," Toby explained, "is a batting average of .200. That's what players try to stay above. It's an imaginary boundary."

    "So the writers aren't working up to par," CJ concluded.

    "They're not even close," he grumbled.  "If this was spring training, I'd be cutting them."

    "Hey, you know something about baseball," CJ observed as if just entering the conversation.

   "Yeah," Toby said slowly.

   "Some of the reporters were talking about baseball today," she said.  "Something about a giant oriole…"

    "A giant oriole?" Toby laughed. "You know nothing about baseball."

    "I… may… know _some things about…" she paused. "Yeah, I'm clueless."_

    Toby grinned. "Well, at least you came to me. Josh may have tainted your view of baseball, but I can give you facts."

    "Don't you and Josh like a New York team?"

    "No, no, no, no," Toby corrected. "I like _the_ New York team. The _only_ New York team that has been around since the World Series began. Josh likes some expansion team."

    "Ah."

    "Out of all the World Series," Toby continued, "the Yankees have won 26 – 26! The next closest is Cincinnati with five."

    "I've heard of them," CJ replied. "My dad used to watch them with my brothers."

    "And only twice has the World Series not been played," Toby explained. "In 1904 and 1994."

    "What happened then?" she asked.

    "No series in 1994 due to a player's strike," Toby said. "In 1904 the National League president didn't want his team to play against the inferior American League champion Boston Red Sox. It's the first time I've agreed with the National League."

    "Wait," CJ exclaimed. "A New York team was here last year. The Mets. That's Josh's team isn't it?"

    "So?"

    "Where was your team?" she asked.

    "They…decided to take a rest," Toby explained as he rose from the couch. "I'm going to check on the Peanut Gallery to see if they can form complete sentences."

    As he left, Donna entered, carrying two Styrofoam cartons.  

   "Here," she said, giving CJ her salad.  CJ tore into it and was startled to see a greasy cheese burger and fries in Donna's.

   "Is that a mistake?" CJ asked.

   "Huh?  No," Donna said chomping on the extra rare burger.  "I'm starving.  I didn't get breakfast today and I'll probably work through dinner.  I figure Josh can keep going on this junk so I thought I'd try it."

   "He's a man," CJ waved off the logic.  "They're not right.  They sit in a park and watch other men hit a ball with a stick for a few hours and call it entertainment."

   "Whack a ball?"

   "Baseball," CJ said.  "We went to that game tow years ago and it was fun—for like the first  few minutes—but after that I gotta tell you, I was bored stiff," she said, stabbing a tomato.  "And they keep all these facts in their heads about the game, but do they remember your birthday?  Do they remember to call when they say they will?  No."

   Donna said nothing.  Her view of men was less than flattering and had nothing to do with the annoying nuances of men's forgetfulness.  It was the insensitive and irresponsible nature that was foremost in her mind.  But she wouldn't let her mind wander there during work.  To do so might prompt a scene she knew would be unprofessional.  Her fuse for Josh was exceptionally short lately and it took so little to light it.  She worked on her heart-attack lunch as CJ continued to ramble about baseball.

   "… and he says it like everyone should know it," CJ continued.  "I hear Mendoza and I think Supreme Court Justice.  That's admirable.  That's what we do here.  Just because I didn't know it's the cutoff line for a batter doesn't mean I can't understand the concept.  I mean, it makes sense.  You find out the lowest possible point you're willing to accept and anything less than that you cut your losses and move on.  But they call it the Mendoza line as if anyone would know that."

   "The cut off point?" Donna asked, catching the end of the discussion.  "That's interesting.  Knowing when to say when.  Yeah….  Yeah."

   "Donna?" CJ said, waving a hand in front of her face.  "Where did you go?"

   "No where," she said and tried to focus on the conversation again.

****************  
  


_The Lyman Residence_

_Saturday_

_9 p.m._

    With more than a month behind them in their new house, Donna was liking the home less and less.  It was still beautiful and everything she ever dreamed her home would be: spacious, elegant, welcoming.  But the atmosphere of those living there was stifling.  She had put the home in order—no help or thanks (even his words of thanks didn't sit well with her so she wasn't calling them true thanks despite his contention that they were sincere)—except for the room Josh had staked out as a library.  She had arranged the house so it seemed that someone lived there, despite their long hours at the White House, but that room remained unconquered territory for her. Finally, Donna had had enough. Josh's office was never going to get unpacked if left up to him, she decided in a sudden fit of agitation that afternoon. She entered into his home office and began unpacking. If Josh wasn't going to unpack, she would have to do it for him.

    After three hours of solid work, she came to the final box. She opened it and saw several frames stacked neatly against each other.  The first few frames contained family photos—his parents with him at his college graduation, a picture of his grandfather and a picture of Noah Lyman with a young Josh.

    The last picture Donna pulled out stunned her.

    "Her?" she asked aloud. "Why would he keep a picture of _her_?"

    Donna stormed out of the office and down the hallway. She went into the living room and peered out the window. She then glanced at the grandfather clock. Barring anything pressing by Leo, Josh was due home in ten minutes.

    _I remember telling him to get rid of the picture, she fumed. _He doesn't listen to anything I say!__

    Donna left the living room and began pacing in the foyer. As the wait grew longer, so did her anger. Flashing headlights in the driveway alerted Donna to Josh's arrival home. She sat down on the stairs in the hallway, steeling herself.

    Josh opened the door and spotted her and her evil expression instantly.  "'Sup?"

  
    "Explain this," Donna demanded, tossing the frame at him.

    Josh dropped his bags and caught the object. "This is a frame. You put pictures in it. Anything else I can help you with?"

  
    "Look at the picture," she snapped.

    Josh looked at the photograph. "This is the one with my face scratched out."

    "I have a mind to do more than that," Donna snapped.  "Why did you keep a picture of her?"

  
    "It's Madeline."

  
    "Yeah, it's HER."

  
    "I don't believe it," he smirked. "You're jealous."

  
   "No, I'm asking why my husband keeps pictures of his scanty and trampy old girlfriends hidden away in his office," Donna asked.

  
    "I don't and you're jealous," Josh stated. "You Donnatella Moss are green with jealousy. Tell me why. What happened? Did Mandy call or   
something?"

  
    Donna stood. "I asked you to do one thing.  ONE.  LITTLE.  THING.  And you ignored it.  Why?  You still want her, is that what it is?"

  
    Josh tossed the frame on the bench. "Wait? What are we talking about now?"

  
    "I asked you to toss that picture when we moved," she pointed a finger at him. "I thought you had. Evidently I was wrong."

  
    "I don't know what you're talking about," he shook his head.

   "I found it in a box and I said toss it," she recalled clearly.  "You said okay.  Then I found it, hidden away with your little treasures."

  "My what?"

   "In one of those boxes where you keep your special stuff," Donna said.  "It was on your desk in there."

   "The only box in my desk in there was a box of stuff that I packed the last day that we were at my apartment," Josh said, his anger at the unprovoked attack rising.  "I had a couple books and some pictures that we took down so you'd have room for some of your stuff and…."

   "Oh, so you had her picture up at your apartment," Donna seethed.  "Did you put it up after I left each time?"

   "Let me finish," he growled.  "And stuff that I had brought home from the office and tossed in a box!  This obviously falls in that category.  Damn it, Donna!  Would you think for once before you decide to convict me of these things?!"

   Donna glared back at him.  "I found that picture and told you to toss it," she said.  "When I said toss it, I meant in the garbage or in the fireplace, anywhere but IN THE BOX!"

  
    "Well did you specify?" Josh asked. 

  
    "Don't get smart with me, Joshua," Donna warned.

  
    "You're treating me like an idiot or worse, an intending adulterer so I think I can pretty much be however I please right now," Josh countered.

  
    "I said toss the photo and keep the frame," she repeated. "You didn't listen. You never listen."

  
    Josh nodded. "No."

  
    "What?"

  
    "I'm agreeing with you in an attempt to end this discussion because I have a question of my own," Josh replied.

  
    Donna arched an eyebrow. "And what is that question?"

  
    Josh pointed to the frame. "What were you doing in my office unpacking?"

  
    "I was unpacking your office this afternoon because I was bored," Donna said.

  
    "One room, Donna," he sighed. "That's all I asked. One room that is mine. And what do you do the first time you're bored?"

  
    "And it is yours," she replied. "I was just putting up some photos and trying to make some order in there before you messed it up again."

  
    Josh looked at her. "You decided to bring some order to my space? You went through my things and decided how my room should look?  Am I getting the gist of this?"

  
    Donna threw up her hands. "You want it all to yourself, fine. I'll never set foot in your room again, how 'bout that?"

  
    "Wonderful!" he yelled. "Now, do we put a chalk mark down the center of every room so I don't step on your side?"

    "You are being such an ass," Donna seethed.

  
    "You're the one who's out of line," Josh retorted.

  
    "Me?" she scoffed. "If you say so."

  
    Josh stepped forward. "Donna, whatever the hell your problem is with me or the world or whatever, tell me what it is now because I don't have the time for this damn rollercoaster you insist on dragging me along anymore!"

  
    Donna's face flushed with anger. "Am I not good enough for you?! You have to keep pictures of your old girlfriends around to help you remember the times you shared with them? Here, let me call Amy. She can come over and help you relive the good times."

  
    "I threw a frame in a box because I threw everything in a box that day!" he shouted. "You want to accuse me of... No, you know what? You don't get to accuse me of anything. I had hoped to come home and have a few peaceful hours. How stupid of me!"

   
    "Go ahead and fall asleep at your desk!" Donna roared as Josh picked up his bag. "If you want to come home, the guest bed's all yours."

  
    "Your generosity is overwhelming, Donna," Josh said.  "That must be why I married you—you're all heart."

  
    Donna began to walk up the stairs. "I tell you what. You can have the master bedroom and I'll take the guest bed. I don't want to burden you with that inconvenience. 

    Josh flipped open his cell phone and began dialing. "Don't bother."

  
    "Who are you calling?"

  
    Josh ignored her. "None of your damn business," he said then spoke into his phone.  "Hey, remember what you said about…  Yeah, well, does tonight work?...I know...  No, not really…  Sure...Give me half and hour..."

  
    Josh shut his phone and said nothing. He breezed past Donna and took the stairs two at a time. Donna followed him to their bedroom. He flung the bag of clothes on the bed and opened it. 

    "What are you doing now?" Donna asked, surprised by his actions.  She felt cold and was shivering despite the humidity in the air.  She sat on the bed and hugged a pillow to her chest as she watched Josh grab several articles of clothing and put them in the bag.  

  
    "What's going on?" she asked.

   "You get your wish," Josh said firmly.

   "What do you mean?"

   "You're precious house is all yours," he said, zipping the bag closed viciously.  "I can't take this anymore so I'm not going to.  I'm leaving."

   "Where are you going?" she asked stunned.

   "Any place has got to be better than here," he said cavalierly as he grabbed the bag and headed toward the door..  

  
    "So that's your answer?" she asked.  "Run away the first time you…"

  
    Josh stopped packing. "Donna, it's not the first time, but so help, me it will be the last.  I am so _sick_ of being the object of supreme scorn in your world. I don't know what I did. I've asked and you won't tell me. Know what I realized?  I no longer care!  I can't stand living like this. I have a lot going on at work and whatever it is that's going on with you... I don't have the time or the patience any more."

  
    "Well it goes both ways," she argued. "I'm tired of constantly having to tell you what any responsible adult who wants to be in a marriage should know.  You know, for someone as smart as you think you are, you don't know a lot about the simplest things.  God, you know what, you just….."

  
    "When did you start to resent me so much?" Josh asked simply. 

   "Resent you?" she scoffed.  "You think it's just resent me.  I swear sometimes I…."

   Josh looked back at her and the anger lines etched deep in her face and the dark circles under her eyes.  He could see the word before she snapped it out at him.

   "You really do, don't you?" he asked painfully.  

   "I hate you," she sneered, feeling the rage welling in her throat and churning in her stomach so violently she was certain she'd be sick.  "I hate you're superior attitude; always having to be right; all the sarcasm; pretending that I'm the one who's in the wrong when you know it's you.  You don't get to manipulate me like some idiot intern.  

   Josh paused and removed a thin card from his wallet. "Congressman Conroy told me to give this to you," he said trying to keep the regret from making his voice quaver.  "I think it was a joke but hey, who knows...  I suppose its time we discuss it.  Let me know when you're ready."

    He flipped the card at her then closed the door behind him.  Donna froze as she listened to the door downstairs close as well and heard his car leave the driveway.  After several moments of shivering and running the conversation through in her head again, she was aghast at what she had said.  

   _Maybe it wasn't that bad, she thought.  __Maybe I just think it was that bad.  _

   As tears started to well in her eyes out of shame, she picked up the card he left.  The tears were on full force as she read the embossed lettering.  It was for a law firm in Virginia that specialized in divorces. She stared blankly at the card in her hands, then at the door. Donna dropped the card as if it were on fire – she couldn't touch it again. She suddenly felt sick inside.

    The tears flowed down her face and her body was wracked with sobs. She had crossed the line – couldn't stop herself from uttering those words. She hugged the pillow to her chest tightly and wanted badly to pull back her words.  She wanted to understand why she was so angry with him and why couldn't explain her feelings to him.  She had pushed him out and now he was gone.  He was had decided it was over—he had just said as much—and it was her fault.  She had pushed him to that.  

   She continued to cry until there was no saline left in her body.  She went down to the kitchen quietly to get something to drink and was startled by the phone.  A wave of relief washed over her.  

   "Josh?" she said hopefully.  "I'm sorry."

   "No, little girl," spoke the voice of her brother.  "Not Josh."

   "Ralph?" she sighed disappointedly.

   "Yeah, unless someone else calls you little girl," he remarked.  "Senator Kennedy maybe?"

   "No, nothing that sweet," Donna replied.  "How are you?"

   "Fine until just now," he said.  "I was calling to check on you.  You sound awful.  What's wrong?"

   "Nothing," she said smally.

   "You've never been a good liar," he replied.  "It's nice to know exposure to so many politicians hasn't changed that.  Now, tell me the truth."

   Donna started sniffling again and in a burst of emotion, told him what was going on up to and including the most recent blow up.  Her older brother paused and made no comment for several moments as Donna did her best to plead her case for why she had reacted the way she had.  After several moments of contemplation, he spoke.

   "How's Josh's ESP?"

   "His what?"

   "How good are his mind-reading skills?" Ralph asked.  

   "I don't know what you mean," Donna said.  "Josh isn't a mind-reader."

   "Then how the hell do you expect him to know what you're thinking if you never tell him," Ralph remarked.

   "I do tell him," she argued.  "All the time.  And all he does is…"

   "No, what you told me is what you shout at him," Ralph corrected.  "Now, it's not like me to side against you with any guy.  God knows isn't a one of them you dated that I liked.  I can't say I'm too fond of Josh in some respects—I don't like the idea of any man having such rights with my baby sister.  But, I gotta take the man's perspective here, Donna.  You women do this to us all the time.  We don't interpret sighs, eyerolls or any of those other little signals you all think are as obvious as words written in blazing neon.  We don't work that way.  We're like the telephone.  You can't just let it ring then do nothing.  Once someone answers, you gotta speak to them or they have no idea what you want.  You're all about being the ones who communicate, well, why don't you ever just say what you mean?"

   "Ralph," Donna sighed.  "I'm serious.  This isn't some battle of the sexes.  I'm not some little girl who is following you around and asking what you are your buddies do at the lake at night.  I want advice.  I think… What if we've reached the Mendoza line?"

   "What?"

   "The Mendoza line," she repeated.  "It's thing in baseball and…"

   "I know what it is," he said testily.  "Do you?"

   "Yes, it's the point you need to be above or you get cut," she said.  "Basically."

   "Yeah, but not for one game," Ralph said.  "If I teach you nothing else in life, let it be this.  Don't use sports terms as metaphors unless you know what you're doing.  This is dangerous stuff best left to the experts.  The Mendoza line is not for one game.  It's an average—you know, like for a season.  You're not there yet."

   "We're not?"

   "Well, you won't be if you'll stop doing what you're doing," he said in an exasperated tone.  "Isn't that obvious?  Look, Donna. I know you're not a little girl anymore.  You're an intelligent woman.  I can't believe how much you've grown as a person since you left home.  You've made a real success of yourself and you did it through hard work and determination.  That's my advice to you.  Keep that up."

   "Some days, Ralph, I feel like I'm still the same girl who puts her heart before her head," Donna wept.  "I mean, really, what was I thinking just hopping on a plain and heading to Greece with my boss?"

   "I thought you went with Josh," Ralph said.

   "I did," she sniffeld.  "You know that he's my boss."

   "No," Ralph corrected her.  "He's your husband."

   "Not lately, he's not," Donna said.  "I thought that... that he... he wouldn't work as much as he used to. I mean, he has a reason to come home now and it seems like he stays at the office more than he ever did."

   "When did his job suddenly get easier?" Ralph asked.  "Did they change how the country works because he has a wife?"

   "No," Donna said, relenting the point grudgingly.

   "So what made you think that?"

   She remained silent.  She could see the logic in his words and it galled her.  She found herself growing as angry with her brother as she did with Josh.  That was good and bad, she realized.  Good in that Josh was not the sole object of her scorn, but bad that it was difficult not hang up on her brother rather than listen to him tell her things that she knew were true but didn't want to hear.

   "I make an observation?" he asked in her silence.  "I don't know Josh all that well.  I met him briefly in June when we were in your area for our vacation.  But I know a thing or two about most people after I meet them and shake their hand and ask them a few questions.  So this is what I know: He's a good guy, Donna, and from what I've seen, things happen very fast in Josh's world--his working world.  You and I both know that for the most part, it doesn't work that way with a personal life.  And from the other things I know about him, I guarantee you that you've had more of a chance to be a human than Josh has—your life was a lot kinder than his was.  This guy has been on a treadmill most of his life; he's a perfectionist in pragmatists clothing.  You know more about people and personal relationships than Josh does; you need to teach him now, not try to change him or force him to conform."

   "But what if I made a mistake?" she asked. "You know, just another one of my monumental screwups with men. You know all my failures; I jumped the gun; I was too eager."

   "Do you love him?"

   "I don't know anymore," she sniffled.  "Some moments I know I do, and other times…"

   "Best you find out," Ralph said.

   "How?"

   "Same way you got to know him to begin with," Ralph said.  "Be with him.  Only this time, you can't just work beside him.  You need to sit down with him on some neutral territory and have this thing out.  Tell him what you're feeling.  Explain it to him.  And let him explain himself to you.  Don't try and figure out what he means.  Make him tell you what he means.  It's really not that hard.  Talk to each other."

   "What if he doesn't want to work things out?" she asked, devastated by the possibility.

   "Only one way to find out," Ralph informed her.

   "I don't know how," she said.

   "Just call him," Ralph encouraged her.  

   "If it's that easy, why don't you do it?"

   "Because I'm not married to him," Ralph said.  "I have a crazy wife, thank you very much.  I don't need two.  Makes a man wonder why anyone would be a polygamist.  Masochist is more like it."

   "Ralph," Donna warned, feeling a diatribe coming on.  "I'm not crazy."

   "Then you can be rational and behave like a reasonable adult," he said.  "Maybe if you don't fly off the handle, Josh will sit and listen and he can be honest with you.  Fine some time away from work and hash this thing out before it's too late."

   "Peace would be nice," she sighed.  "We haven't had that in a long time."

   "I seriously doubt whether you ever had it," Ralph said.  

   "We did," she recalled serenely.  "There was our time in Greece and…"

   No, you've had lulls between the storms," Ralph explained.  "It's not the same.  You need to find the everyday peace."

   "When did you become this smart, Ralph?"

   "By making every mistake with Liz that you and Josh are making right now," he said.  "Just go read a bunch of Hallmark cards that are seeking forgivness, Donna.  They'll tell you marriage is hard work.  You need a little bit of luck, a lot more yelling, a touch of faith and an amazing amount of trust.  Damn, I should go work for those people."

   "Think I'll be as lucky as you?" she asked.

   "Don't hope for luck," Ralph said.  "Remember what Dad used to say.  Hope is not a course of action.  No, what you need to do is work.  If you need me, I'm just a phone call away."

   "Thank you," Donna said gratefully.  

   "Any time, little girl," he replied.  "I'm gonna start working on that line of greeting cards now.  Bye."

   They disconnected and Donna felt marginally better.  That is, until she realized she had no idea where Josh was.  The solution was obvious, but came to her 20 minutes later.  Cell phone.  She steadied herself and made sure she was relaxed before dialing.  She was intent upon having a non-confrontational conversation.

   The phone rang five times with no answer.  She knew he was likely looking at the number on the screen and debating whether he wanted another shouting match.  On the sixth ring, just before the message service would normally pick up, he answered.

   "Yeah," he said flatly.

   "It's me," she said kindly.  "You probably knew that."

   "Yeah."

   I'm probably disturbing you, so I won't keep you too long," she said calmly.

   "Okay," Josh answered, keeping his answers short so as not to provoke further fights.

   "I just...," she paused.  "I think we need to talk.  I want to talk, that is.  To you.  About us and what's going on.  I think there are a lot of things that we need to say to each other rather than scream at each other.  So was want… I was hoping, that is, that you would agree to that."

   "Okay," he said cautiously after several minutes.  

   "I think it would be best if we went some place," she said.  "Just a short weekend, if you can get away, so that we don't get called away.  Let's just get this out and you know…"

   "I said okay," he replied keeping his tone even.

   "So can I check your schedule and make some arrangements?"

   "Fine."

   "Thank you," she said formally, feeling queasy again.  She's never had a conversation this stilted with Josh, even when she first met him.  

   The line disconnected several moments later.  The butterflies in Donna's stomach did not dissipate, but she paid them no mind as she started rummaging through her purse for another phone number.  She found it and dialed, hoping it was not too late to call.

   "Hello?" the man answered, sounding very much awake.  

   "Isaac?" Donna asked.

   "Yes, who is this?"

   "This is Donnatella Moss… uh, I mean Donna Lyman," she said.  "We met in Westport."

   "Hi," he said.  "I'm surprised to hear from you.  Are you in town?  I didn't see anything in the papers."

   "No, actually," she explained.  "I was calling to ask for a favor."

   "Ask away."

   "Do you remember the name of the place where you went with Josh and his family on Martha's Vineyard?"

**_Up next: Chapter 12– _Horatio******


	12. An Ill Wind

**Title**: **HEAVEN AND HELL, _"_****_An Ill Wind_****_" _**(_Chapter Twelve)   
**Authors: Westwinger247 and Enigmatic Ellie**  
**Webpage: **  
**Notes**: _This is a follow-up story to THE QUEST. Thanks to those who have followed us from one story to the next.__

_The White House_

_Office of the Deputy Chief of Staff_

_9 p.m._

   Josh scribbled a note to talk with Leo about the language that was bogging down the minority leader in committee on the proposed energy bill.  He had read through his notes 10 times since arriving at the office after his latest battle with Donna, and he couldn't remember much of what he had gone over.  Her phone call earlier, while less harsh than her acidic words at the house, left a cold knot in his stomach.  He knew what was wrong and a simple break from the city wouldn't change things.   He shook his head and looked again at the briefing book in front of him.  He knew there was something he was supposed to tell Leo about the committee…

   "Wow, that is some serious concentration," Amy Gardner said, appearing without warning at the corner of his desk.  "I never knew that energy was so riveting to you."

   Josh looked up, grateful for the break from the reading.

   "I spent the first hour of reading wondering why the Justice Department's quarterly crime stats were missing from the mark up on the crime bill," he admitted.

   "You'd think all that discussion of utility reform would have tipped you to the right department," she noted.  "So are you going to tell me what the problem is?"

   "Yeah, it's not the crime bill at all, it's the energy bill," Josh yawned as he tipped back in his chair to stare at the ceiling.

   "I covered that," she said.  "I meant what's wrong with you.  You were supposed to go over the…"

   "Damn it," he sighed, recalling 12 hours too late that he was supposed to meet with Amy to discuss some concerns for Abbey Bartlet.  "I'm sorry.  I was supposed to see you about the California deal.  I completely forgot.  Let me…"

   "No," she stopped him.  "You're this out of it and you think I want you working on anything that the First Lady thinks is important?  No, no.  The President lets you do this zombie thing and that's his business, but I have standards."

   "Tomorrow?"

   "Sure," she nodded then perched on the side of the desk.  "Now, about tonight."

   "What about it?"

   "Jay, if I say it again I'll have asked you this three times and it wasn't even funny the second time," Amy continued.  "What's bothering you?  Don't say _nothing because you're a horrible liar and I'm a lot smarter than you give me credit for most of the time.  Are you dying?"_

   "Dying?" 

   "Yeah," she asked, sounding casual.  "You look hollow lately, like something is eating you alive.  There's a rumor that you've got a brain tumor."

   "Anybody feel bad for me?"

   "Not really, but a few folks want your office," she informed him.  "So do you?"

   "No," he answered, tossing his briefing book aside.  "I'm not dying either.  Sorry to disappoint the crowd."

   "They'll get over it—you can't live forever," she shrugged.  "So what is bothering you?  Are you having an affair?"

   Josh smirked.  Not that he considered doing so, but at least having done something he knew was wrong and could put his finger on as a specific reason for hating him would make his wife's resentment of him make some sense.  He knew Amy was not the person he should discuss something like this with and yet he couldn't think of a single reason why he shouldn't.  Amy was a friend, someone who was always brutally honest with him and someone who knew him well. Granted, their personal history was something others might find too close for this kind of discussion, but whom better than a former lover would know what it was he did to make the women in his life usually adopt the title of "former" anything in relation to him?

   Amy waited for a response and sensed none was imminent.  With a sigh, she edged closer to him and perched on the side of his desk.

   "So you heard this thing about Leo?"

   "What?"

   "About his wife," Amy continued.  "I mean, his ex-wife."

   "Is he back with Jenny?" Josh asked.  He knew such a thing was not possible, yet some part of him hoped it was true—it would lend confidence to him that bone deep, irreconcilable differences could somehow be fixed.  The word impossible, he noted, was getting a wider and wider definition lately.

   "No," Amy shook her head.  "Samuelson told him in a meeting tonight that she's seeing this guy, Donald Curtis."

   "I know that name," Josh remarked.  "Who is he?"

   "New York banker type," Amy said.  "He's the one who said the thing about the World Bank and got the U.N in all that…"

   "Right," Josh nodded, recalling the comment.  "He's a jackass."

   "He's her jackass now," Amy said.  "Apparently, it's been going on for a while.  I don't think even Mallory knew."

   "Samuelson told Leo?" Josh asked with concern as he chastised himself for hoping for the best previously.  "I should go see…"

   "He's in the residence with the President," Amy informed him.  "He'll be fine."

   "His wife is…"

   "His ex-wife," she corrected.  "What is it with you guys?  You with your parents, Toby with his wife and Leo with his.  Look, some times things are just over.  It's sad and it hurts, but it's over and you have to move on with your life.  Women can do it, why can't you?"

   Josh said nothing as he looked around his room.  There was a picture of his parents on the far wall.  It was taken at an anniversary party for them years earlier, before the word cancer became a part of their world.  He thought of Toby and Leo, both of whom still wore their wedding bands.  He looked down at his own hand and observed the shiny gold wrapped around his finger.  He then looked around the room again.  There were no pictures of Donna in this room, he noted.  There was nothing of her at all and this was the place he spent most of his time and this place he felt most comfortable.  He sighed at the implications.

   "What happened?" Amy asked quietly, sensing he was ready to talk.

   "I think I just separated from my wife," he said plainly, surprised at how nonchalant he could be.

   "Why?" she asked, not surprised.  There were many rumors in the office in recent weeks.

   "No idea," he said.  

   "Then that's your reason," she replied.  "You just never figured it out, did you?"

   "Figured what?"

   "The relationship is more than the chase," Amy said.  "Josh, you're one of those guys who loves the challenge and as soon as you've mastered it, as soon as you've won, you are so uninterested in the game that you dismiss it entirely.  You can't do that with someone's heart.  It's not fair; actually, it's cruel.  How is it you never learned that intimate relationships require constant care?"

   "I don't do that," he argued weakly.  

   "Yes, you do," she countered quickly.  "You're the master of cut and run.  You like headlines, Josh, the hot news story.  You like the build up and the proclamation, and then you want the next day's news.  Being married isn't like picking up a copy of the paper.  It takes more than just reading the stuff above the fold.  A marriage is supposed to be a documentary film; an epic.  You don't think anything is permanent so at the first sign of hole in the plot you want to flip the channel."

   "You're mixing media metaphors," he shook his head.

   "And you gave up before you even got through the opening credits," Amy said sharply.  "I've got to tell you, when I learned you got married to Donna, I said it would never last.  She's a nice person, but she couldn't possibly keep you interested and challenged."

   "Don't say that about her," Josh said firmly.

   "That wasn't about her," Amy stated.  "That was about you.  Donna is a smart and vivacious woman.  She's come a long way in a short time and she has so much going for her, but she fell under that spell.  That Joshua Lyman Jinx.  It sneaks up on you and one day you wake up and you realize that you've got the hots for the one of the most arrogant and insensitive men in the city."

   "Flirt."

   "But you're not that guy," Amy continued, ignoring him.  "You can be, a lot of the time, but there's more to you than that.  And it's right about the time that she realizes that there's more is when the trouble starts; that's when those impulses get dangerous because that's when she falls for you, and it's a long way down, let me tell you.  I thought what a lot of other people thought when you were suddenly married."

   "Shot gun wedding?" Josh shook his head.  He had heard the whispers himself.

   "You're a stand up kind of guy," Amy smiled.  "Only when it was obvious that that wasn't the reason, I looked at it differently.  She's been with you through so much and you trust her and…  You cared for her—probably more than you even realized—and that jealousy thing you have…"

   "I don't get jealous," he argued.

   "It's your competitiveness," Amy informed him.  "You don't like to lose what's yours."

   "So why didn't I propose to you?" he asked.

   "I was never yours," Amy said simply.  "When did it start?"

   "What?"

   "The end?" she asked.

   "May," he said.  He had been thinking about it for a long while and he was certain that it all started in May.  "She wanted a house.  She wanted to start settling into a life that…  I…  That's not my life.  This.  This room, this building, this is my life.  I don't care about hardwood floors or a marble fireplace.  My life happens inside these walls and up on the Hill.  But that's not her life.  She wants something else, something more than this.  I don't understand someone who wants more than this."

   "So you figured that you'd try and keep control of things by not participating at all in her life," Amy nodded.  "Now, how did I know that?"

   "Psychic?"

   "No," Amy said. "I know it because I've been there; it's step one in the 'Josh is leaving' scenario.  I went through it twice.  I have to tell you, it's that first step that hurts the most when you realize what it is.  You start cutting people off emotionally, Josh.  That's rough because you don't give a lot in that area to begin with, my friend.  So what you did here was you treated your marriage like it was still you office fling that no one knew about, but you made a big miscalculation there."

   "yeah?"

   "Yeah," Amy informed him.  "Donna heard you promise out loud that you would love her and be with her forever.  She knows you as a man of your word.  It's one of the sexy things about you, that level of trust people have in you when you tell them you will do something.  You don't fail in that often.  But I've watched you, Jay.  You pulled away from her.  You probably did it thinking that would make things more comfortable for you, only she tried to pull you back.  She got the house because she wants a home with you.  She probably started trying to pull together little things you could do together outside of work: dinner in a restaurant that isn't a business meal, a trip together to some place where you're not that guy from the White House.  Don't look shocked that I know this.  I know this because that's what a married couple does, Josh.  They're together.  Not two separate people who happen to function under the same roof.  They're a single entity who functions in tandem; a team.  It's not just about you having someone who listens to you talk about what your brilliant plans are for the legislative session who you know won't run to the press.  In fact, it's precisely about her not being just that person for you and you becoming more than the guy who gives her orders at the office for her."

   Josh stared back at her in amazement.  It was reasonable, rational and accurate.  He had viewed Donna's clinginess and desires at a home life as constricting and overly conventional—as though she was trying to live up to some standard she thought was necessary for this town.  It never occurred to him that having a home and a home life was something she wanted for her.  He had fought this change from his old life into the one she was devising at every turn because it was precisely what he did not want.  It was apparent to him that he and Donna wanted very different things and the current state of their relationship was only a prelude to more strife as the separate course continued.

   "How bad is it for you?" Amy asked.  "You look like you don't sleep or eat.  You look like you've been sick for two months and are trying to rally back without anyone noticing."

   "I don't know how much more I can take," he said softly.  "Everyday is a fight and it's never over anything that seems worth fighting about to me."

   "You don't get to decide those terms by yourself," Amy said.  "It's important to her and you are making her crazy.  You probably haven't noticed, but she's fine around everyone else.  She's actually a better liar and fake than you are.  She's better at controlling herself than you."

   Josh scoffed.

   "Control?  Boxes on the floor are worth this?" he asked heatedly.  "I get my head taken off because she wants to unpack everything in a manner of hours after the boxes arrive at the house?"

   "That's what you hear but that's not what she's actually telling you," Amy said with pity as she shook her head.  "She wants her home to be settled because she's hoping that it will bring some stability to her marriage.  It's a coping mechanism, Josh.  She doesn't have a home and you've shut her out at every turn she took to have one with you.  She left everything that was hers to join you and I'm guessing you never showed up—not really.  You did the big romantic gesture with the surprise wedding, but then you went back to being you and your own insular world where your needs come first.  She forgot that you married this job first; I'd bet she's feeling pretty scorned about realizing that you love it more than you love her—I know I did."

   "That's not true," he said.

   "Yes, it is," Amy replied.  "You know it is; I can see it on your face.  Don't look surprised.  You know she's your second priority… maybe third.  That's not how she thinks about you—at least, that's not how she used to thin about you.  Then you pulled your disappearing in plain sight thing on her.  So she's mad and she has every right to be.  I think she wanted to create a place that you would be as important to you as this building so that she would rate in your precious little world.  But you shut her out and now…  You left."

   "She wanted me to leave," Josh said difficultly.  

   "I didn't mean tonight, but hey, who could blame her?" Amy asked.  "You didn't show up at all, Josh.  You quit before the game started.  You looked at what you'd be asked to do and you knew you'd fail so you took the easy way out."

   "I didn't," he said and looked away.  

   "Does it surprise you at all that you don't even want to fight to keep this?"

   "No," he said firmly, feeling the exhaustion in his bones and in his mind.  "I don't want to fight.  I don't want to fight for anything anymore.  You want to know the truth?  I can't take it.  Between the idiocy of congressmen from Georgia, a CPI that is giving the President heartburn daily, half of State getting twitchy with Leo about our cousins in the Middle East and the constant scorn I get every time I go to the place I'm supposed to call home, I don't want it.  I never minded the chaos, but I can't take it any more.  I need it to stop.  I need a moment of peace.  That's all I want and I can't find it.  So, no, I don't want any of it anymore if this is how it's going to be.  I don't have it in me any more to fight.  I don't sleep; I can't eat and I can barely think straight—which doesn't bode well considering these files on my desk and what Leo and the President are asking of me right now.  Everybody wants things from me that I can't give them.  I've got nothing left.  I hold it together with… I don't even know what lately and I'm afraid I'm going to reach down for whatever it is some day soon and…. there won't be anything left."

   Amy paused and observed him with greater concern.  She knew of no one in the District as strong as Josh and yet as frail.  He seemed to draw strength from those weak spots in him, finding the most intricate and ingenious ways to cope and compensate.  But those skills were failing him and it was showing.  

   "Are you talking to someone?" Amy asked slowly, not sure how much she dare pry but realizing that it needed to be done for his own good.  "I mean someone who is not me and knows about this stuff?"

   "Don't worry about it," Josh brushed off the inquiry.

   "I do," Amy replied.  "Maybe you and I weren't ever going to take a trip to Greece, but I do care about you.  I also care about this government and you spend more hours advising the President on a daily basis than most anyone else.  You staff him nearly every day and he listens to your advice.  You're not allowed to have a bad day, Josh.  You don't get that luxuary."

   "I know," he said quietly, laying his head back in his chair and closing his eyes.

   "It's not fair, but you don't get fair," Amy replied.  "You're Josh Lyman and that's just how it goes; you've said it yourself.  So, as I friend, I'm saying you should talk to someone."

   "I did," Josh admitted.  "I am;  I've been…  I arranged it for after hours so that...  Just don't say any-…"

   "I wouldn't, and you know that," Amy replied, relieved.  "I don't know what's actually going on in your head, but from a friend, you should know that you're stronger than you think and you're a better man than this."

   "Yeah?"

   "I don't have that kind of degree, but there are some things I just know," she said as she stood and walked toward the door.  

   "Care to tell me what I should do?

   "Yeah," she smiled.  "Come eat.  I'm getting sushi."

   "In this heat, it'll be cooked by the time they get it to the door," he remarked.

   "Great, so you're buying, right?"

*****************

_Lyman House_

_7 a.m._, Saturday__

   Donna closed the door after saying her goodbye to Will Bailey.  She felt guilty on many levels and felt the sudden urge to scour the house top to bottom, as if that could remove the ugliness that pervaded the walls now.  She went to the living room and started to clean.  She grabbed the empty wine bottle and the dirty glasses from the coffee table and brought them to the kitchen and grabbed a cup of coffee before returning to pick up the pillows and blankets that littered the couch.  Will had arrived at a vulnerable moment the pervious night.  Josh had been so distant on the phone and though he had agreed to her request, she felt it was merely because he didn't want to fight any longer.

   Pushing the previous night about of her head, Donna continued to return the room to some type of order that she could stomach.  She was tossing the sheets and blankets down the laundry shoot when the doorbell chimed.  With a burst of hope, she ran to the door, expecting to see Josh standing there waiting for her.  She pulled open the door, not at all surprised that he would not know which key opened the door to find not Josh but Sam.

   "Oh, it's you," she sighed as she opened the door.

   "And good morning to you," Sam said brightly.  He knew not all was well within these walls.  It worried him.  "Did I just see Will Bailey pulling out of your driveway?  Did he have the thing from 802? I was looking for it all morning and I think I left it at the OEOB at my last meeting."

   "No," Donna said simply, ushering him into the house.  

   "Then what was he doing here so…," Sam began then looked at Donna more carefully.  She was dressed still in pajamas and looked as though she had just woken up.  There was also a nervousness about her.  As he passed he kitchen, he observed two wine glasses sitting on the shelf beside and empty wine bottle.  "Oh…  I… uh….."

   "Josh isn't here," she said unnecessarily, and tried not to meet his eyes.  "What can I do for you?"

   "I'm supposed to meet Josh," Sam said.  "He called and said to meet him here."

   "Did you see him last night?"

   "No," Sam said.  "I got a message from to meet him here at seven today.  He didn't come home?"

   "Figured that out, did you?"

   "Donna, is there anything I can…."

   "No," she said quickly.  "Sam, it's complicated and it's private.  Look, you can…  Just wait for Josh in his office.  It's the dark room at the end of the hall.  He'll be there eventually."

   She then walked away, going back to the living room to finish her work.  Sam's look of innocent shock gnawed at her.  _He doesn't know; he doesn't understand, she kept telling herself.  He was looking at her like all this was her fault, and maybe it was, but she didn't know that for sure and her husband (such as he was) was the one who walked out.___

*****************

   The weekend passed in a slow and agonizing fashion.  Josh returned home for his meeting with Sam then spent the rest of the weekend either at the White House or hold up in his office at the house.  Donna was never certain when he was in the house; she had to keep checking the garage to see if his car was present.  When they did meet, usually by accident, the moments were awkward as they were both taking extreme pains not to say or do anything that the other might find objectionable.  Donna concluded this must be what it's like to work at the U.N.

   Throughout the week they functioned as they always had, though quieter than usual, at the office.  Donna found time to complete the plans for the trip Josh promised he would take with her.  She wasn't sure he would remember agreeing so she took a most diplomatic approach (via a post it note on his schedule two days before they were to leave) about reminding him of their weekend plans.  He made no comment, though she was relieved to see his bags packed and sitting in the hallway at home the night before they were to leave.  She didn't see him that evening as the President had him working late.  Not that she would know when he came home anyway.  He had not slept in their bedroom since their last fight.

   Donna awoke on the day of  travel, half expecting to find a note taped to the refrigerator, stating the President had vetoed his vacation and would be working the rest of the weekend.  However, as she entered the kitchen, she found him reading the paper and speaking with Toby on his cellphone.  From the gist of the conversation, he was making sure all was well for the brief period he would be out of town.  

   Once he completed his call he sat silently while she ate her breakfast.  She found it unnerving but kept her tone pleasant as she spoke to him.

   "I'll be ready in just a few minutes," she said.

   "Okay," he replied.  "Where are we going?"

   "To the airport," she said cautiously.

   "We're flying some place?"

   "Well, we're not driving," she remarked.  A day-long ride in a car with Josh would tax her patience more than she thought she could handle at this point.  She wanted to work things out, but there was only so much one woman could handle, she surmised.

   "You haven't told me where we are going," Josh said.

   "I know," she replied.  "It's sort of a surprise.  I told you to pack for possibly chilly weather or possibly warm weather."

   "So we're going to New England," he guessed.

   "Maybe," she said trying not to let on that he was correct though from the brief smug grin that appeared on his lips and disappeared quickly she knew she failed.  "You just don't know where."

   "Boston," he guessed.  "I like Boston.  I love Boston, actually.  I've spent a lot of time in Boston.  I completely approve of Boston."

   "That's nice," Donna answered as she left the room to retrieve their bags.  

   The ride to the airport was quick and uneventful, as was the flight to Boston.  However, Josh's smug and approving air about divining their destination disappeared quickly as Donna steered him toward the rental car desk and retrieved their automobile for the weekend.  She had explicit directions from Isaac in hand and would not tell Josh anything more than he needed to know.  He was told when to go straight, when to turn and nothing more.  However, when they entered the area surrounding the town of Woods Hole, he no longer waited to the prompts of when to turn.  He navigated them to the ferry landing without another word from her.  

   They took their place on the ferry.  The sky above was flannel gray but the sun was thrusting its nose through the blanket as the boat edged out to sea.  No sooner were they free of the dock when Josh got out of the vehicle.  Donna sat alone, puzzled by this.  Her curiosity grew as she watched him move toward the front of the boat and stand facing the oncoming waves.  He had been, what seemed to her, unnaturally quiet as they had boarded the ferry and had not said a single word since then.  Donna remained in the car for the rest of the lengthy ride.  Josh returned as they neared the land.  His air less troubled than when he left the car.

   They arrived on Martha's Vineyard to find the town not quite done with the season.  The vast majority of the tourists had spent their last holiday on the island two weeks earlier.  However diehards and locals still filled the streets.  Donna directed Josh to cottage she was able to rent.  Though it was not precisely the one she had sought originally, it was equally as quaint.  The cottage was small and cozy and not far from the shore.  The center of town was not too far yet there was enough privacy that she felt like they were nearly alone on the island.  

   They entered the cabins and surveyed the set up.  Donna loved the setting.  Josh made no comment.  She opted not to read anything into his silence and politely asked him to get the bags.  Dropped his backpack and cell phone on the table he obliged.  Donna looked at her watch.  It was barely 1 p.m. on Friday yet the morning felt weeks away.  She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not and decided not to dwell upon it.  As she made this decision, Josh's phone trilled.  Out of habit, she answered it.

   "Hello, Josh Lyman's office," she said.

   "This is Connie Mendez from Morgan Greene's office," the woman replied.  "Is Josh Lyman available?"

   "No," Donna said cautiously.  "May I take a message?"

   "Please have him call Morgan Greene at his earliest convenience," the woman replied.  "We need to reschedule his Monday appointment."

   "His Monday appointment," Donna repeated as her hands began to tremble.  "Right.  And what time was that again?"

   "Six p.m.," the woman obliged.  "Mr. Greene has to go to California for another client.  He hopes very much that Mr. Lyman will understand."

   "That's quite alright," Donna replied mechanically.  "I will let Mr. Lyman know so that he can reschedule."

  Donna disconnected as the tears started rolling down her cheeks.  She placed the phone back on the table and wrapped her arms around herself.  

   "This is all of it," Josh said arriving from the car carrying the rest of their bags.  He placed them both on the floor and looked at her back, waiting for a reaction.

   "Great," she said quickly, surreptitiously wiping her eyes and gaining her composure.  

   "Now what?" he asked.

    Donna brushed her hair behind her ears. "It's a while before dinner. Care to take a walk along the shore?"

    "A walk?" he asked. "It's pretty windy out there."

   "I can go by myself," she said, hoping she didn't sound too meek.  She thought taking a walk by herself might be what she needed at this moment.

   "Alone?"

   "I'll be fine," she replied.

   There was something phony and forced out her tone and her expression that Josh did not like.  She was trying so hard, he knew, not to say something.  Though he had no interest in taking a walk along the rocky shore, he relented figuring it was his job to play the accommodating partner so that they didn't end up screaming at each other.  

   "No, I'll go," he shrugged.  "You might want to grab a sweater or something though."

   Donna obliged.  They left the cottage and made their way to the windswept shore.  It was a cragged coastline with several lonely ships in the distance.  The wind grew more intense as they walked toward the rocks in the distance.  Though the wind was warm, the velocity took some of the comfort from it and allowed it to cut through Donna's clothing.  She wrapped her arms tightly about herself as they continued down the beach.

   "It's beautiful," she remarked, pushing the phone call out of her mind and trying to enjoy the tranquility of the setting.  She found it odd that Josh would enjoy such a place. He never seemed to be at peace or still.  Such a setting seemed so diametrically opposed to everything she knew about him.

   "It's better in the summer," he said, clearing up her confusion.  "It's dead right now.  When the summer crowds are here, there's a lot more going on.  I used to go with my dad back to the center of town and listen to the locals talk politics with the tourists.  This is Kennedy country at certain times of the day—particularly when someone in the family might be in the area.  First time I met Ted Kennedy was here.  I was about 10 or 11; my dad sent me into the store to get him a copy of the paper and the senator came in."

   "That's why he calls you the paperboy?" Donna asked, finally getting an answer to a question that had confused her for years.  

   "Yeah," Josh said.  "He doesn't remember it, but I told Earl Brennan the story once and he told the senator at some DNC thing."

   "There's a story?" Donna asked.  "So the name isn't just because you were an errand boy.  What did you do?"

   "Nothing," Josh said quickly.

   "Josh."

   "I was mad because I wanted to go the shore, but my dad made me go with him on an errand for my mother," Josh recalled grudgingly, keeping the peace.  "He was sick of my grumbling about not being at the beach while he wasted the day talking with some guy he knew in town.  So he sent me into this store across the street to grab a paper.  It was the last one on the rack, and I picked it up just before the senator came in.  I knew who he was, but I couldn't believe he didn't just send someone to buy his paper.  I mean, how do they not have home delivery?"

   "What did you do?"

   "I answered a question," Josh said.  "A stupid one."

   "I'm sorry?"

   "He asked what a little boy like me was doing buying such a big paper," Josh said.  "I didn't like being called a little boy.  I wasn't little, so I told him so and said it was none of his damn business why I was…"

   "Josh!"

   "Look, my mother grounded me years ago, so you can put the face away," he said sharply and instantly regretted it.  "Sorry.  I…  Sorry."

   "That's all right," she relented.  She hadn't meant so sound so angry.  "I can't believe you swore at him, that's all.  I mean, today, sure.  But you were a child."

   "I was not a little boy," he argued.  "And technically that is not swearing and that's really not what I said…. precisely.  I was giving you the summation.  Anyway, it was a 10 second encounter that didn't mean anything to me or to him because he doesn't really remember it; it's just something he says now because Earl told him the story and they had a laugh at my expense."

   "So he didn't take you by the ear back to your mother to get grounded?" Donna asked, wondering how Anna Lyman had dealt with that situation. Josh probably needed to keep his father on retainer for the rest of the summer, she felt.

   "I told you, he didn't care," Josh said.  "Besides, who needed a US Senator to blow the whistle on me when I had Isaac the stool pigeon with me.  He was all bug-eyed about it, and he's the only reason my mom found out; guy couldn't keep a secret to save his life or mine."

   "He was with you?"

   "Yeah, he came with us one time--that year," Josh said.  "My mom felt sorry for him and I think she was afraid I wouldn't have any fun by myself."

   "And to keep the day lively, you accosted a U.S. Senator," Donna nodded.  "Sounds like an average day."

   "Yeah, and Isaac nearly drown so it was a real fun vacation."

   "He what?"

   "Well, maybe not drown," Josh said as they approached the rocks that acted as a breakwater to the inlet of the beach.  He picked up a handful of smooth stones and began skipping them along the surface of the water.  "We were running along those rocks over there one afternoon, and he tried to grab a piece of driftwood or something that was in the water.  He fell in and swallowed a lot of salt water.  He spent the rest of the day throwing up and whining like a baby."

   Donna refrained from defending Isaac.  She didn't know him well enough to judge whether Josh was being harsh for the sake of being harsh or if he was depicting an accurate portrayal of the story.  Nor did she care.  She looked along the coast and wished she hadn't left her camera at the cottage.  The windswept beach, the waves folding over each other and the fading light made for a mesmerizing picture.  She looked at the exposed reef that snaked from the shore out into the water and hooked slightly to the right.  She wondered if the angle was better out there to get a wider view of the beach.  If so, she intended to return in the morning with her camera to get a picture.  If the shots were any good, she would consider blowing them up and mounting them on the bare walls of the hallway at the house.  

   "Where are you going?" Josh asked, keeping his feet firmly on the sand and far from the lick of the waves.

   "I want to see something," she said, her arms still tightly about her fighting off the wind.  "I'll be right back."

   "Donna, don't," he warned.  

   "I'm just walking along here," she shouted over her shoulder as she made her way across the rocks.  They were wet with the spray of the waves.

   "You're gonna slip," he called after her.

   "No, I won't," she asserted.  

   She walked more than half way out onto the reef and dared go no further.  The waves seemed to be larger and rush faster here than they did just the few yards back on the shore.  She realized quickly that was due to the angle of the reef.  She surveyed the scene.  The picture from that angle would be much better, she thought.  She looked at Josh, standing alone on the beach, shaking his head.  He was waiting patiently and she thought it best not to provoke his taciturn tendancies so she decided to head back to shore.  She picked her way carefully along the spine of the rocks but the wind was pushing fiercely at her back and suddenly there was water rushing in at her feet.  She looked down, trying to concentrate on the more level places to put her feet.

   "Donna, I told you," Josh warned.  "You're gonna…"

   She never heard the next words.  Her own yelp as her feet hit a slick patch covered his comment.  She toppled over the side, banging her hip and elbow on the rocks before plunging into the water.  It was cold.  She sprang up quickly, glad to find the water was barely waist deep, and shouted in shock.  She moved, as quickly as the tugging water would allow her, toward the shore.  Her eyes stung from the salt and there was a horrible seaweed taste in her mouth.  Her nose also burned from the water that she had inhaled.  Her vision was blurry but as she got nearer the shore, she felt a warm dry hand latch onto her wrist.  She could also hear his failed attempts to stifle laughter.

   "It's not funny," she said sharply.

   "It really was," he assured her as he laughed.  

   "It's cold!"

   "It's the Atlantic Ocean in September," he said unnecessarily.  "Cold is really a relative term."

   "Shut up," she ordered.  "I'm cold.  I'm wet, and I think I swallowed a fish."

   He continued to laugh but did relent that she at least looked cold and asked if she was hurt.  She knew there were likely going to be big bruises tomorrow, but she didn't think anything was broken.  He told her to take of her sodden sweater, which she did and felt the bite of the wind.  It nearly sucked the breath right out of her lungs as it sliced into her wet skin.  He draped his windbreaker over her shoulders.  Using the sleeve, she wiped her eyes and got her first clear view of the once-pretty scene through eyes pickled in salt water.

   "I don't think I want that picture now," she said sternly.

   "I think you'll have pneumonia if we don't get you inside soon," Josh replied.  "You're limping.  Can you walk back?"

   "Yeah," she said and walked, slowly and painfully beside him.  "I'm not going to be able to move tomorrow."

   "The quicker we get back, the quicker you can get ice on… whatever parts of you was that…," he started laughing again and without thinking put his arm around her.

   "I'm here for your entertainment," she said, smirking and feeling as foolish as she feared she looked.  "So who was more graceful, me or Isaac?"

   "He got more points on degree of difficulty—he went over backwards and head first," Josh said.  "I'd give you more style points for artistic expression because you screamed and more on technical merit because you pulled yourself out."

   "I should get points for how cold the water is," she argued.  

   "Can't," Josh said.  "That goes with the whole costume issue.  Besides, to offer points for that would be to lend credence to the concept of the wet T-shirt contest."

   Donna huffed and wrapped his jacket more tightly around her.  Her joints were growing stiff and her ears hurt.  The wind was growing colder as the light faded.  She figured they were roughly a mile from the cottage and dreaded every step of the way back.  She knew it was not merely the overall moisture content of her wardrobe that made her shiver.  She could see Josh was chilled by the wind.  She could feel the occasional shiver in his arm as it rested on her shoulders.  

   The walk back to the cottage took what seemed to Donna like forever.  Even the cool air of the unheated cottage felt warm as they stepped out of the biting wind.  Donna felt her face with her chilled hands.  She could not tell if the heat in her cheeks was the onset of a fever or wind burn.  After a look in the mirror—which revealed her hair now rivaled the tangle snake mass popularized by Medusa—her cheeks were pulsing red.

   Without being told, Josh dutifully built a fire in the fireplace.  Donna watched with caution.  She wasn't sure how he could err by putting wood in the proscribed place and touching a match to it, but she kept an eye peeled just in case.  Thankfully, no emergency measures were needed.  Seeing the smoke rising properly up the chimney, Donna repaired to the bathroom in hopes of getting a warm shower.  However, her plans were quickly dashed as the water was barely lukewarm.  She stepped from the shower smelling slightly better but no warmer than when she entered.  She dressed in as many layers as possible and returned to the main room where Josh was on his cellphone.

   "I guess we could put out some feelers to see what they think," he said as he saw he enter.  "I actually have my notes in my bag…  No, it's, uh, I think it's still in the car….  Let me take a look at them and I'll call you back…  Okay, when then?....  Sure, an hour from now….  Okay, and Toby, would you find out about this thing I got a message about, something about a guy name Reichter…  No idea, but apparently when we go to Germany there might be a thing….  Yeah….  Okay."

   "Toby just can't live without you," Donna said as he hung up.  "Do we still have a country?"

   "For the moment," he replied from his spot on the couch.  "I'm no expert, but I think you'd be warmer if you stood closer to the heat source."

    "Huh?" she replied. "Oh yeah, sure."

    Donna made her way over to the couch and curled her feet under her. "I can't believe I was that stupid... I should've known better."

    "It was an accident," Josh said simply, continuing to read the newspaper. "You slipped."

    "Still..." she shivered. 

    "Here," Josh offered, slipping an afghan off the back of the couch and wrapping it around her shoulders. "Wrap up in this.  You're still shivering."

    "Thanks," she said gratefully. "This is a lovely cabin, don't you think?"

    Josh tossed the paper aside. "Hmm? Uh, yeah."

    "Thank you," Donna said softly.

    "For what?"

    "Agreeing to come," Donna explained.

    Josh shrugged. "Yeah."

    "Josh..."

    "Yeah?" he turned to her.

    "Morgan Greene's office called?" 

   Her words brought silence to the room.  He looked back at her with a guilty expression.  He considered trying to evade the truth but knew from her expression that would not work.  He knew she deserved to know the truth.

   "He's a…," Josh began but the words would not come.

   "He's one of the most powerful divorce lawyers in Washington," Donna said.  "I know Morgan.  I've met him a few times.  He's supposed to be highly expensive but highly discrete and keeps thing quiet and quick.  Half of Congress and the half's spouses have him on retainer."

   "I know him through Earl Brennan," Josh said for lack of anything else.  "I just…  I needed… I don't…"

   "They said that they needed to reschedule," Donna explained, taking a seat on the couch. "I understand why you called."

    "Well I don't," he replied honestly.

    Donna looked at him. "Is this what you want?"

    "I don't know what I want," he admitted.  "I just know that I can't go on like this.  What do you want?"

    "I wish I knew," she sighed.

    Josh ran his hands over his face, suddenly feeling very tired. "Do you know what you don't want at least?"

    "I don't want to feel like this," she confessed.  "I guess I didn't think that things had gone this far."

    Josh stared at the painting on the wall behind her. "I think that I make you miserable and that maybe this might be the best thing."

    "No, it's me," Donna argued. "I've pushed you too far.  I've been hateful to you.  It's just been so stressful and…  This whole year has been one… First my father dies and then you and I sort of fell apart and before I knew what was going on, we were in Greece and…  It was just so much in such a short time.  It made me act crazy."

    "You do that because," he paused, "you want me to be something I am not."

    "Yes… I mean, no," she admitted. "I didn't marry you because I thought I could miraculously change you."

    "I'm not blaming you," he assured her.  "I'm difficult.  I know that.  I mean, you get a lot of credit for hanging in there as long as you did, but I did this to you.  Well, most of it."

    "Do you still love me?" Donna asked.

   "Maybe that's just not enough," Josh said.

    "Fine," she sighed, taking a pen an paper off the end table beside her. "Simple Pros and Cons list for a divorce, okay?"

    "I…hadn't considered taking notes," Josh said uncomfortably.

    "It can't hurt," she said, pen at the ready.  "You first."

    "Okay, Pro," Josh said reluctantly.  "No more fighting every day at home."

    "Con – no more home," she countered, then added. "Pro – we can sleep easier at night."

    "Con – we don't sleep together any night," Josh pointed out.

    Donna scribbled down their points and counter points when Josh spoke again.

    "Pro," he sighed. "I won't make you miserable."

    "Con – I won't be there to lighten the mood," she replied. "Pro – no mortgage."

    "Con – alimony."

    Donna stopped writing. "What? I…I wouldn't ask for it."

    "And how precisely are you going to pay for the house?" he asked.

    "I thought you'd keep the house," Donna said.

    "I don't want the house," Josh answered.  "You love the house. I'd want you to have it."

    "Too big for one person," she shook her head. 

    "There's a ton of equity in the house," Josh pointed out. "You could sell it and get yourself a better apartment to live in.  And speaking of finances, Pro: marriage tax penalty."

    "Con: No marriage to penalize."

    Josh paused briefly. "Con – new assistant."

   "You'd fire me?" she asked innocently.

   "I thought you'd quit," he shrugged.  "Wouldn't it be too awkward?"

    "Probably," Donna admitted. "Con – new boss."

    "This list isn't working," Josh admitted as he exhaled tiredly.   "Look, just answer me this:  Was it a mistake?"

    "It can't be," Donna whispered uncertainly.

    "It could," he contradicted. "It's one explanation for why things are so screwed up.  I wonder if maybe… for so long we were there, under each other's skin. Maybe we read things wrong. When I do things impulsively, they're not usually the right thing."

    "Why can't this be the right thing?" she asked simply.

    "It doesn't feel right anymore," he said, and knew he was echoing her unvoiced fears.

    "Neither, do I," Josh agreed. "But you should be ready to face the possibility that we can't fix things."

    "I know," Donna said softly.

    "Losing people is a part of life," Josh explained. "Sometimes it's not because they died."

    "Do you still love me?" she asked frankly and feared the answer.  When he spoke, it was worse than her worries.  It was honest and possibly disastrously truthful.  

   "I don't think that matters," he said.  "That one thing isn't enough."

   "But you do," she asserted.  "I still love you, too."

   "What does that matter if we don't like each other anymore?" he asked pointedly.

   "It should count for something," she said meekly.

   "Bad things shouldn't happen to good people, but that's not how the world works," Josh replied.

   Donna could not argue with that, even if she had the strength, which she didn't.  The cold was setting into her bruised body and making her shiver.  Josh graciously ran into the small town and found pizza for them.  He returned and they ate in virtual silence.  Donna remained on the couch as darkness fell.  She vaguely recalled Josh assisting her to bed an leaving her in the room alone.  She awoke in the morning to the sound of rain pelting the windows and soreness engulfing her right leg and hip.  Her back and head ached as well.  There was no breathing through her nose and her eyes felt puffy and gooey.  

   "I'm dying," she said stuffily as she spied Josh standing in the doorway staring at her.

   "So you're not dead," he nodded.  "Guess you'll want your coffee."

   "I can't move," she groaned.  

   "I bought you some aspirin, too," he said obligingly as he entered the room and handed her the pills and cup.  "I'll bet you aren't up to any sightseeing today."

   "You sound pleased," she remarked, gulping to lukewarm liquid and the pills.  "This is almost cold."

   "It's about four hours old," he informed her.  "It's nearly noon, Donna.  Do you want to leave?  We can catch the next ferry and go back to civilization.  Do you think you need to see a doctor?"

   "I'll be fine," she sighed as she admitted to herself that relaxing weekend to get their lives back on track was now ruined.

*****************

_The White House_

_Saturday, __10 a.m.___

   "…And a guy named David Schulman left a message that he has to speak to you," Ginger reported to Toby as he returned from a breakfast meeting with the President that had not gone well.  

   While Toby normally thrived in meetings with the President, this one should have been Josh's to take.  Leo had dropped the latest revisions for the Energy Bill in Toby's lap at five o'clock the previous evening when it appeared Josh would not be back in time to brief the President the following morning.  The speechwriter was wondering how much Josh had managed a weekend off with Leo's blessing without being half dead.  It was not that Toby did not comprehend the bill or the changes it was facing.  It was more the President's jovial mood and desire to pontificate on the history of energy—in all it's forms throughout history—that vexed Toby so much.  This was the kind of abuse the President should have reserved for Josh, Toby felt and saying so during the meeting only seemed to drag things on longer he noted.  

  Now, he was supposed to get back to working on the speech the President was to deliver at in Germany in three weeks time but his brain was filled to capacity with stories of peat bogs and the precise dimensions of the blades of windmills in Holland.  So it took him several seconds to digest and decipher what his assistant had said.

   "Wait," he said after a moment.  "Schulman?  Rabbi Schulman?"

   "He didn't say," Ginger responded.  "Maybe he's a rabbi.  The name sounds Jewish, doesn't it?"

   "Just a little," Toby sighed.  "Call him back.  And find out what he wanted before I speak to him."

   "So he's someone?"

   "Oh yeah," Toby groaned and tossed aside any thoughts of writing at that moment.  "And get CJ.  She might know what this is about."

   "Okay," Ginger nodded then turned to leave.  "But if he's a rabbi it's probably about Texas."

   "I'm sorry?"

   "The band in Texas," Ginger said as if that simplified matters.

   "I need more than Cliff Notes," Toby urged.

   "There was a high school marching band in Texas that did a thing last night," she explained from the brief she had caught on the news just before Toby started his meeting with the President.  "They were doing a world cultures thing, or maybe it was something to do with the nations that fought in World War II…"

   "Ginger?"

   "Right," she said, returned to the point as his glare grew sharp.  "They played the national anthem of Nazi Germany and waved the flag with the swastika."

   "I'm sorry," Toby with an aghast expression.  "They did what?"

   "It was on the news," she said, pointing over her shoulder.

   "Get CJ."

****************

_Martha's Vineyard___

_Noon___

    "So why aren't we condemning the band leader?" Donna asked in a raspy voice.  She had managed to maneuver from her bed to the couch in a painful fashion and the bruises from her fall had blossomed overnight and a mighty cold had settled into her head and chest.  Josh had spent a good deal of time on the phone with Toby and CJ and Leo regarding an incident at a Texas football game.  Donna wasn't entirely certain what was going on.  She was finding it difficult to concentrate as she kept dozing off.  She was just grateful to find that Josh had brought her soup—it reminded her of a similar gesture many months earlier.

   "We're not saying anything other than it was a poor choice of music," Josh replied, not entirely pleased with the White House response but knowing it was the correct move politically.  There were First Amendment landmines all around this event.

   "So we don't think they were advocating the Nazi machine?" she asked as she listed to the wind rattle the shutters on the cottage as the storm continued to roll off the coast.  She was fighting to stay awake as she stared at the flickering embers in the fire.  Despite the pain, she was comfortable.  She had wedged herself under Josh's arm and nestled herself close to him, mostly to keep warm.  

   "The band director states that they were merely representing all those nations involved in the conflict," Josh replied.  "It wasn't precisely the Nazi anthem so much as a piece of music closely associated with Hitler and the propaganda parades."

   "And the flags?" Donna asked.

   "Apparently they did the same thing last week for the Civil War and no one seemed to care that much about the Confederate Flag flying next to the U.S. Flag," he said.  

   "What do you think?" she asked, having heard how difficult it was for him to remain in his role as political advisor during the conversation with his co-workers.  She was certain both he and Toby took this issue more personally than the others in that meeting.

   "I don't know," he lied.

   "You don't mind that a public school was parading hate up and down the field as half-time entertainment?" she asked then sneezed.

   "What I think is that you're getting sick already," he observed.

      Donna shook her head. "No."

    "You have a cold already," he repeated.  "Maybe we should go.  You can see a doctor before this gets serious." 

    "I don't have a cold," Donna stated through her stuffy nose.

     "And why not?"

    "Because I don't have time to be sick," Donna said, and then paused. 

    "You think you really never get colds?"

    "Yeah," Donna nodded. "When you were 'dying' during the campaign, did I get a cold? No, I did not."

    "It was an extremely virulent strain that affected only certain people," he said haughtily.

    Donna smiled and leaned back against him. "Ah, I see. So, it picked its victims."

    "Strategically, yes," he agreed, pulling a blanket around her more snuggly as she shivered.  "I told you it was like a Republican cold."

    "A Republican cold?" she yawned. "That's new."

    "I think many Republicans are cold," he smiled.

    "You think all Republicans are cold," Donna pointed out.

    "No," he corrected, "I think they're all misguided."

    "I stand corrected."

    "You're actually sitting," Josh smirked. "Delirious with the cold already, huh?"

    Donna began to drift off. "Josh, you don't have to be so literal."

    "My metaphors get me in trouble," he said and then waited. Josh glanced down and noticed that Donna had drifted off to sleep. He gingerly stroked her hair and stared at the fire.

****************  
  


_The White House_

_The following week_

   With the vacation over and no definite course set for their future, Donna returned to work feeling battered but hopeful.  She was able to move, slowly at first, so long as she didn't bump the corn of her desk or any file drawers.  There as a brief moment of agony when one of the interns clipped her hip with a mail cart, but other than that she was able to function, which put her ahead of so many others in the office.

   A virulent strain of a stomach virus was makings its rounds in Washington.  Two schools were closing their doors for at least two days to control the epidemic.  Those with children or contact with them were coming down with the crippling 72 hours virus as well.  Though the actual sickness was lasting only 48 hours, it packed a punch that left one needing several days to recover sufficiently to return to work.  From what Donna learned it hit the phone operators first then slowly started to move its way through the building over the weekend.  The cleaning crew was down to half staff and some anecdotal evidence showed nearly every intern and secretary in the OEOB was starting to run a fever.

   With her immune system already possibly compromised by what she might admit was the slightest touch of a cold, Donna was extra wary and considered wearing a doctor's mask at her desk.  However, the stern look from Josh when she suggested it vetoed that idea swiftly.  He started to change is tune slightly as the week dragged on.  The Texas band story was not disappearing as hoped and he found himself in several meetings with CJ who, in his estimation, was no longer pale so much as light gray in color.  When Margaret succumbed after fainting at her desk on Wednesday afternoon, even Leo was prepared to admit that perhaps this virus thing was not just a simple autumn cold event.  By the time the President had to see a doctor on Thursday morning, everyone was willing to concede the bug had gotten the better of them.

   It was decided that CJ would not do the briefing, mostly because she wasn't sure she  could stand that long, but also to show that this was a real thing and the President staying in bed for a day or so had nothing to do with MS.  The fortunate break came when most of those in the Press Room also started in with the symptoms.  

   Donna struggled through the week, feeling more and more tired with each day, and placing a thermometer in her mouth more than a fork or spoon.  When she hit 101.3, she surrendered.  She dragged herself into work on Friday morning and prayed that she could make it to the end of the day and vowed to not crawl out of bed until the following Monday.  She thought she might even pull it off as Josh seemed unaffected by the bug—only he and Sam and Toby appeared immune (Ginger, in her withered state announced it was because there were either too mean or too hostile to get sick).  

   Though she felt like death was around the corner, Donna was satisfied to have Josh back at home.  She wasn't sure how much of it was due to his desire to be as it was his worry that she not be left alone.  Twice he expressed a fear that she looked so unsteady on her feet that she might fall down the stairs.  By no means was he a wonderful nurse, but at least he brought her Tyleno and water when requested and the mere fact that he was there and trying mean the most to her.  However, not long after arriving on Friday she fielded a phone call that stripped her of any remaining will to plod through the day.  She left a note on Josh's door that she had gone home sick.  She had left a second message on his desk—so that he might be persuaded that one note had nothing to do with the other—stating that Morgan Green was confirming their dinner meeting that evening at 6 p.m.

**************

  
  
_The Lyman residence  
Friday, __11 p.m.  
  
Donna sat on the seat of the bay window, her back facing the street, with one dim lamp illuminating the living room. She listened mournfully to the ticking of the grandfather clock and the quiet clinking of her wedding rings as she rung her hands together. Josh wasn't home. She knew he wasn't at the office either. He had one thing on his schedule for the evening: Morgan Greene. She had overheard Josh confirm the appointment.  
  
_So this is D-Day_, she thought.  
  
Sometime that evening, Donna would learn if she would be signing her name on a divorce petition.  
  
She sighed heavily and placed her face in her hands and wondered how things had gone so wrong. She didn't know where the train left the tracks. Her life with Josh as merely his assistant had gone much more smoothly than it had as his wife.  
  
_Sure, he irritated and annoyed me with his little nuances before, but I wasn't the one starting a war of words back then. Those annoying traits - like never being wrong or never admitting he was wrong or somehow managing to make his mistakes into more work for me without him still being technically wrong - were part of his charm._  
  
As a plethora of such instances sprang to her mind, she smiled, at first unconsciously. Then she realized what she was doing and felt a wave of tears well up in her eyes and her throat tightened.  
  
_Why is it that they don't annoy me now but if he was right here I'd be screaming at him instead of smiling? Maybe he's right. Maybe I am losing my mind.  
  
_ She thought they had made progress on their weekend trip to New England. She thought that until she realized he was keeping his appointment to speak formally to Morgan Greene.  
  
She wanted to find the words to tell him how much she loved him; words that would make him understand that she was going through something she didn't understand but that didn't change how she felt for him deep in her heart. But she wasn't Toby - she couldn't get a succinct, persuasive statement together; and she wasn't Sam - her words didn't have the power to move him and open his heart.  
  
Not that she had given him much of a reason to listen to any plea she made. She could see now, in the cold, stark light of reflection, how terribly she had treated him. She had done it with so little warning. It seemed to her as though she just woke up filled with this ire and pent up rage toward him one morning. It didn't appear to have any root cause, but she blamed him all the same. She blamed him because it was easy and it felt good to let that emotion out.  
  
That is, until after she had said something.  
  
Without fail, each time she exchanged a verbal barrage with Josh, she felt remorseful and depressed and sick inside. But rather than it compelling her to apologize, it only made her angrier when she spoke with him next about the incident. She didn't think she resented him, but she could come up with no other reason for her behavior…except that there was something wrong with her emotionally.  
  
She regretted deeply, almost to the point of sobbing despair, the hateful way - and hateful was the only way she could describe saying such a thing to him - with which she attacked him. She in turn retaliated with the most evil thing she thought she could say.  
  
_I told him 'I hate you.'  
_  
She said it but it wasn't true. She didn't hate him. Couldn't.  
  
He hadn't said it to her, but she wasn't sure about his feelings. Josh kept his feelings close and hidden. He would open up at the most unexpected times and only with those he trusted most.  
  
The last several months had been a whirlwind of emotions for her. Her father's slow deterioration from a man whom she thought hung the moon to a helpless individual broke Donna's heart; Josh's sudden and abrupt breaking off of their agreement shattered her spirit. Then two weeks later, Josh surprised her with the sudden revelation of his true feelings and it gave Donna a revived sense of being. Finally, the culmination of events occurred when he placed the ring on her finger. Donna never thought that she could be so much in love and completely happy; everything was right with the world again.  
  
The quiet suddenly became too much for Donna to handle. She rose from the window seat and headed for the entertainment center. She picked up the remote and accessed the CD player and hit the shuffle button. The strains of Etta James' Stormy Weather came through the speakers and engulfed the room - a fitting tribute to tonight. She flicked off the lamp and noticed that it had begun to rain.  
  
Donna made her way back to her seat and gazed out the window. There was something about the rain that used to make her feel warm and special. The night in Vermont when they made their deal to be with each other outside of the office gave her goose bumps each time she remembered it while she laid in Josh's bed. But her most cherished stormy occurrence came on a sidewalk just yards from the entrance to a gallery on South Street - the honesty in his words and sincerity in his eyes move her in a way nothing else ever could. Donna could not decide if that night or the wedding day was her most precious memory.  
  
The rain streaked down the windowpanes, matching the tears that escaped from her eyes. Donna pulled her knees up to her chest and started sobbing. She wondered if Josh was coming home that night or if the next contact that she received from him outside the office would be from a process server.  
  
_Lawyers_. She'd need to get one for herself if things continued on their present course. The only lawyers Donna knew in the greater DC area were the ones she worked with, Cliff Calley and her own lawyer from the congressional depositions three years ago, who didn't handle divorce proceedings. _

  
Donna gazed into the face of the grandfather clock and noted the time: 11:07 pm. A flash of headlights briefly illuminated the living room causing her to face them. When it turned out to be a vehicle making a U-turn, Donna's shoulders sunk.  
  
_Not him. _

   _Three months ago, he would have been home in bed with me at this time of night. Now I only see him in the halls at the office. He's always out the door for the office before I'm even awake. Actually, I'm not even sure he's coming home every night. I heard Sam the other day and I saw that bag under Josh's desk in his office.  
  
As the last notes of the CD faded away, Donna was left in silence to wonder and worry.  
  
Minutes bled into hours; she became increasingly worried. She wanted to pick up the phone and call him just to see if he was okay but decided against it. She wanted to know how he was, not where he was. If he was still in his meeting, it would confirm her worst fears.  
  
A slam of a car door signaled that someone in the neighborhood was home. Donna didn't look out the window to see if it was Josh. She wasn't letting herself become hopeful. Her father used to say hope was not a course of action. She never believed that until tonight. However, the rattle of keys in the door told her that Josh was indeed home. She heard the door open and quietly close. She heard the sound of the backpack being placed on the deacon's bench in the foyer followed by his footsteps echoing on the hardwood floors as he made his way down the hallway. Donna quickly wiped the tears from her face as the footsteps became louder. Josh walked into the living room and turned on the light.  
  
"Oh my god!" he gasped as Donna's figured suddenly appeared. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Thinking," she responded quietly as she stood.  
  
"Oh, sorry," Josh apologized. "I'll leave you along. I was just going to watch TV. I'll go to my office."  
  
"No," Donna said quickly as she tentatively made her way to Josh. "Stay. Please."  
  
Josh shrugged and started to pick up the remote when Donna grabbed his hand. "Can we talk?"  
  
"Uh, sure," he agreed, uncertain of what discussion lay ahead of him. He scanned his wife's face and noticed that it was stained with tears. He knew they were caused by him, and it hurt him.  
  
He sat on the couch and Donna took a seat on the coffee table across from him. They stared at each other in excruciating silence.  
  
"So," he began. "What did you need?"  
  
"You," Donna said.  
  
He sighed and shook his head, focusing his eyes on his shoes as his shoulders drooped.  
  
"Please listen," she said in a rush. "I know you met with Morgan, but I want to say something."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Donna took a deep breath and continued. "Josh, I…I don't want this to end. And by this I mean us. I know things haven't been pleasant or enjoyable or even civil sometimes. Okay, a lot of time lately. It's not what I wanted for my marriage; I'm sure it's not what you expected either, but we can't just abandon it when times get tough. I don't want to give up and neither do you. I know you. You don't give up. You…you…you stick with things and…and…and you…"  
  
"Don't give up?" he repeated as she stammered.  
  
"That's right," she agreed emphatically as the tears blistered in her eyes again. "I know you don't believe me when I tell you nothing's wrong. And you were right not to. Something is wrong. It's me; I can see that now. I'm sorry. I want to fix it."  
  
"Donna…"  
  
"Josh, let me finish," she said interrupting him as she grabbed his hand. "I've thought all night and I've decided that I'm not going to give up on us. So I'm asking you not to give up on me. I know that it's a lot to ask considering how I've treated you for the last few months, but I want this to work out. I want to have a future with you. If that means that I have to see a professional, then I will. I'll do it because I can't stand feeling like this anymore and I can't lose you. Josh…I love you too much to let that happen."  
  
She looked back at him expectantly, trying to read his expression. It was blank - his legislative face; the one he used when a Congressman had stepped out of line too often and now wanted to play nice. It was not a good face.  
  
"I was wrong when I married you," Donna said nervously. "I mean, that is, I thought I could be like you. I've been around you so much, and I got swept up in your world and your ways so long ago I think somewhere along the way, I forgot in a little but important way that I was me still."  
  
"I don't-" Josh began but was cut off.  
  
"Please, let me just say this," Donna said quickly. "I have to say this. You… Josh, you make up your mind, and you are so definite. You know so much and you know what you want and how to get it. You make up your mind and BAM it gets done. You're so direct and that's admirable because you know. You just… you know. It amazes me sometimes about you. And I think that was what confused me. I promised you something that I shouldn't have; I agreed to something I shouldn't have last spring. I shouldn't have done it. Oh, now I'm not saying this right."  
  
"You're saying that getting married was a mistake," Josh surmised. She looked up at him with the confession shining through the tears in her eyes.  
  
"My heart was there, but I wasn't," she said. "My head, my reasoning, they weren't there or they were confused by what was happening around me. My heart was there but that's not always such a good thing. It was so busy dealing with everything that had happened-my father and this thing that was going on between us-there was a lot to deal with and I don't think I handled it well-any of it."  
  
"I never thought of it like that," Josh said solemnly. "That's not how I am. I guess I just keep moving."  
  
"I know," she said understandingly. "That's who you are. My heart works the way your head works. It knows what it wants and we go after it. We don't always think it through though. It has its good and bad results. It brought me to New Hampshire, but it's not always so successful."  
  
Donna paused and drew a shaky breath. Her head was no longer as clear as it had been when she returned home. She was tired, exhausted, emotionally but she was determined to focus and say this.   
  
"The difference between you and me is that you think," she said firmly. "You do. You think a thing from a dozen sides all at the same time. You surround it and scour over it; I don't when I lead with my heart. I latch onto something and it carries me away; I'm not the one in control.   
  
"Being in Greece was like that," she continued as tears began to seep from her tired eyes with a sorrowful flow. "It was beautiful. More than that; I can't describe how it was to me. I don't have the words to express it and because it was so… overwhelming, I didn't think; I acted. I think if I had slowed down and made myself think things over, this all would be so different. I led with my heart, but I'm back together again-all my parts. My head picked a fight with my heart and this time my head won. I'm so sorry about all of this. I can't believe I put you through this, but now I'm ready to move on. I never meant to hurt you. It's just that part of me got lost, but I'm here now. I'm standing here and I'm saying this to you because I thought it out, logically, and because I know in my heart this is the truth and the right thing. That's what I had to say. That and I wish you wouldn't look at me like that; I hurt you and I'm so sorry. More sorry than I can say; more sorry than I've ever been."  
  
"Are you finished?" he asked.  
  
"No," she responded and lowered her head. "I know there is a lot more I should say. But I don't know what else I can say. I love you. Please don't do this."  
  
"Okay," he said quietly.  
  
"What?" she sniffled as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hands.  
  
"Donna, look at me," Josh said sternly. She slowly lifted her head to meet his gaze. "I didn't meet with Morgan. I canceled."  
  
"I'm sorry?"_

"I canceled," he repeated. "I'm not to that point yet. We might still get there, but I … I don't know.  I'm not real good at giving up."  
  
"Even if it's a lost cause?" she asked in a calm though slightly shaky tone.  
  
"I'm a Democrat," he shrugged.  

  
  


**Up next chapter 13 (finally!): Horatio**


	13. Horatio

**Title:  Heaven and Hell:** **_Horatio_** (Chapter 13)

**Authors**: Enigmatic Ellie and Westwinger247

**Webpage**: 

**Email:** e_allen@hotmail.com    or   WingNutsChief@yahoo.com

**Notes:**  _This is the sequel to the award-winning sequel to The Quest.  For our faithful (and vocal) fans: We're writing as fast as we can.  Thanks for the interest.  Reviews are encouraged—they make us write faster sometimes_.

*****************

_Leo McGarry's Office_

_Friday, __4:45 p.m.___

   "What's it called?" Leo asked the speaker phone as he sifted through the memos on his desk.  Margaret, who after two weeks was finally feeling back to herself again after battling and illness that felled fully one third of those on staff in the last 10 to 14 days, gave him something about the storm and now Fitzwallace was on his way to Leo's office with the Secretary of the Navy to discuss evacuation measures for several bases.  They had been blindsided by a storm not too many years ago and were looking to avoid a similar situation again.

   "Horatio," CJ said, getting her information from the scrolling bar on the bottom of the TV set in the airport lounge.  "It was a tropical storm until a day ago and it took steroids or something last night and picked up speed and strength as it moved through the Caribbean.  It's only a category 3, but there are some arrows that, I guess, mean something that could make it more than that."

   "Arrows?" Leo asked.  "Is that a meteorology term?"

   "No, it's what I'm seeing on the weather map CNN is showing right now," she said.  "They're red and they're arrows so they look either bad or important or maybe both."

   "You should sit in on my meeting with Fitz," Leo groaned as he looked at the sketchy information he had on the storm.  

   "And give my amateur weather girl gig?" CJ quipped as she massaged her neck with her free hand.  

   It had been an awful day from the start.  Traveling with Josh was never a fun experience, in her estimation.  They were sent to New York City for very different reasons but through what she guessed was surely the truest sign that bad luck did exist, they ended up on the same flights.  The only thing worse than his steely stare and continual grumbling about airlines and commercial air traffic was the knowledge that they reason he was in such a mood was technically her fault.  She had coerced him into delaying his flight home so that she wouldn't have to deal with the mayor by herself.  It wasn't so much that CJ couldn't handle the man, it was that she feared she would be unable to contain her dislike for the man and the way he ogled her legs when they spoke.  She was not one who normally minded such looks from men; nor was she someone who took offense easily.  However, there was just some vibe about the man that made her want to show him the tricks she learned in a self defense class that would make a man's knees bend in the wrong direction.

   The meeting had gone on longer than planned which in turn got them stuck in traffic and led to them missing the return flight.  They were now on standby, watching weather reports carefully, as the storm picked up speed and steamed toward the east coast.  CJ kept her fingers crossed that air traffic control would not get overly cautious and start closing airports before they got out.

   "It's not going to keep you in New York, is it?" Leo asked.  "Henry can handle the briefing, but I need Josh here by morning.  "Tell him if you can't get flight to take a train, rent a car or start walking.  You know the saying come hell or high water?  Well, high water isn't a good enough excuse for me right now."

"

   "Is something going on?" CJ asked, looking at Josh several feet from her talking intently and lowly on his own phone.

   "It's a big country, CJ," Leo said.  "There's always something going on.  We have to get prepped for the economic summit in Frankfurt and they're marking up the Energy Reform and Restructuring Act.  I need Josh in on both of those and the sooner we get them done, the sooner we can start watching our people on the Hill dismantle them."

   "Yeah," she sighed.  "Well, we have a few options.  Right now, there are flights to any place west…"

   "West doesn't help me," Leo reminded her.  

   "I know, but there's no weather in the west apparently," she said, looking at the board showing the departing and arriving flights.  "We had discussed taking the 10 p.m. to Chicago and catching  the last shuttle from O'Hare to Dulles, but there's a chance the weather might not let that last flight in I guess.  Maybe we'd better take one of the flights into North Carolina."

   "The storm is heading to North Carolina," Leo reminded her.

   "Yeah, but they're betting it hangs out on the coast," she said, quoting the closed captioning on the TV.  "It'll probably hang out on the coast for a bit since there's this… blue squiggly line that looks pretty formidable waiting for it."

   "Do you have any idea what you're talking about?"

   "No so much, no," she answered.  

   "CJ…"

   "Look, if we're going to grab either of those flights, we're going to have to go now," she said.  "We're either heading to Charlotte or Raleigh.  I'll call when we land."

****************

   "You can't be mad at her," Donna reminded Josh as he prepared to board the plane.

   "I think I really can," he said, leering at CJ.  "If she didn't push her meeting with the mayor back an hour so she could go shoe shopping…"

   "She didn't go shoe shopping," Donna scolded him from her desk at the office then looked up to be certain no one was listening to her snap at him.  "I'm sorry.  I know you're angry, but it's not her fault.  The storm is no one's fault."

   "Whatever," he sighed.  "Okay, we're boarding.  We're trying for the Raleigh flight.  We only have like a 15 minute lay over so it's even money we'll miss the connector."

   "Why is there no direct flight back here?" Donna asked.

   "There is."

   "And you can't take one of those because why?"

   "Because they won't add seats on the wings," he replied.  "They're booked.  I don't know.  Maybe we can rent a car and drive back to DC.  It's can't be more than five or six hours on the road, right?"

   "Don't do that," Donna said.  "You get so cranky when you have long car trips and you haven't slept in the last two nights because you were up with Sam about the thing."

   "I can drive," he said petulantly.

   "Just make your connection, okay?"

   "Yeah," he said, handing his ticket to the agent.  "Hey, you went to the doctor?"

   "It's not pinkeye," she sighed disgustedly.

   "It looked like pinkeye to me," Josh said, shivering at the memory of her face that morning when they awoke.

   "Well, the doctor disagrees," Donna informed him.  "If it was pinkeye, I'd be lucky."

   Donna, who was supposed to go shoe shopping in New York that morning, was scheduled to join Josh on this trip and assist both he and CJ as needed.  However, after her dip in the ocean two weeks previous she had not been able to shake her cold and the aches in her back and hip though the bruises were fading.  The worst of it was the dry itchiness in her eyes that had turned into yellow and sour smelling goo filling the corners of her eyes in the morning.  She had awoken that morning unable to open either eye until she had placed a warm cloth on them for a solid 10 minutes.  Josh, after yelping in horror at the sight of her, forbid her to go with them.  Donna tried to argue but as she could not see him as she tried it was ineffective.  He had left the room by the time her blindness was cured.  She opted to remain behind so that she could see her doctor.  

   "So it's something, right?" Josh asked still queasy at the memory of the pussy mess on her face.  "I mean, you're not going to look like that always, are you?  I mean, it's pretty gross."

   "Really?  I hadn't noticed," Donna said flatly.  "He said it's an infection from the salt water or something that lives in salt water.  I also may have a tiny scratch on the cornea, but they're not worried.  I have drops and some pills.  The pills are green and the drops are pink; they burn which is supposed to happen, they tell me."

   "The pills burn?"

   "The drops, Josh," she said then realized he was being sarcastic.  "I also have an inner ear which accounts for the dizziness and nausea.  All in all, I'm falling apart."

   "So long as you don't still have that thing everyone else in the office got," Josh said.  "CJ heard Carol is still sick now."

   "Carol ate some bad seafood at lunch," Donna corrected him.  "She and Bonnie went to eat at this place today and by three they were both really sick.  I was helped Bonnie with some things this morning and she was nearly the color of my pills."

   "Maybe I won't run to catch that flight after all," Josh teased.  "You all sound fairly repulsive right now…."

   "Keep it up and I'll cough on your coffee mug and save it for you," Donna promised.  "I'll see you later tonight?"

   "You and all your diseases?" he remarked flatly.  "Can't wait."

*****************

**TO**: Donnatella.Moss@whitehouse.gov 

**FROM**_:_ Joshua.Lyman@whitehouse.gov 

**TIME**: _20:57_

**SUBJECT**: _Four Things         _

   _We're in __Raleigh__.  We missed the connector and apparently they expect the storm to get even stronger in the next few hours so we aren't likely to get out of here quickly.  We're staying at the Hilton—Margaret has the particulars.  We met with the governor's son, Steve Kyle, and I need you to do a few things for me first thing in the morning:_

_1. Clear the calendar for tomorrow. We're not getting out of here tonight--no matter what CJ tries. _

_2. Find anything you can on Tegar Mining, Inc. and Randall Kyle.__ Might be nothing, but I'm hearing things. _

_            3. Forward my notes on a draft of Sam's acid rain legislation to Porcelli in the congressional office; he'll have to deal with what I had done. I won't be back in time to go over it. _

_            4.  Get Ed and Larry to start on the energy thing.  I spoke with Ed and loaned you to them for tomorrow.  _

_-J _

**TO**: Donnatella.Moss@whitehouse.gov

**FROM**: Joshua.Lyman@whitehouse.gov 

**TIME**: _07:47_

**SUBJECT**: _Four Things—Part 2 _

_Change of plans. Forget the mining thing. It's a family squabble between the governor and his son that I don't care to get caught in and I certainly don't want the White House anywhere near until we absolutely have no choice. The storm is apparently eating up the coast so no flights are moving until the sky clears.  CJ and I are going with Steve Kyle today.  He's a district head for emergency management today.  Not sure when I'll be able to call or check in next; they are taking about evacuations—though the likelihood in this area is remote. Right now they're just taking precautions… something to do with conserving power. Not really sure--CJ and I are just following the droves. _

 

*****************

_Chief of Staff's Office_

_Saturday __2:23 p.m.___

   Donna knocked tentatively on the door casing to get Leo's attention.  He looked up from his reading and took off his glasses.

   "Donna?" he asked.  "Is there anything I can do for you?"

   "I was just…  Have you heard from Josh or CJ lately?" she asked.  She had been tracking the storm on the internet via the national hurricane center in Florida.  It didn't seem to be moving at all and there was little in the way of news coming out of North Carolina.

   "Yeah, a couple hours ago," Leo said.  "They're fine.  It's windy.  It's rainy.  Nothing to worry about."

   "Good," Donna sighed nervously.  "It's just that…  I replied to the messages he sent me.  The one yesterday and the one today but he never opened either of them.  It just thought it was strange."

   "Maybe they didn't get through," Leo said calmly.  The storm had jumped to category 5 strength in the overnight hours and had slammed into the Carolinas without mercy.  Now, it appeared to be stalled, mauling to coast like a rabid dog.  

   "Right," she nodded and prepared to convey her concerns to the Chief of Staff when the door to the Oval Office opened and the President entered.

   "Leo, I… Oh, Donna, hello," he said graciously.

   "Good morning, sir," she said politely.  "I was just…  I'll be going."

   "He's fine, Donna," Bartlet said, guessing correctly the source of her concerned expression.  "I just spoke with him an hour ago."

   "You did?" Donna asked.  "How?  Whenever I dial his…"

   "I was on the phone with the District Director of FEMA," Bartlet explained.  "Josh and CJ were there.  They're with Steven Kyle, he's one of the heads of emergency management for North Carolina.  They're taking some meetings and seeing that things are being coordinated and no one is drawing party lines"

   "Thank you," Donna said greatly relieved.  

   "It's all right," Bartlet said assuredly.  "We're all concerned, but there's no need to worry.  He told me he has a plan if things get rough."

   "A plan?" Leo asked.  Josh and plan was a combination of words that often gave him heartburn.

   "Yes," Bartlet said, enjoying his chief's discomfort.  "He told me himself.  Run from the water and hide from the wind.  CJ agrees.  They'll be crawling under heavy furniture in some fortress on high ground before dark.  Steve Kyle himself promised me that."

   "Thank you, Mr. President," Donna said, sighing her relief as she left the room and prepared to check her messages.  There was one from her doctor that she dreaded returning.  The itchy redness in her eyes was greatly reduced but the scratchiness of her throat worried her.  She was convinced she would be making a trip for another round of antibiotics before dinner.

*****************

_North Carolina___

_Sunday morning_

   The ground trembled. The people in the room all looked at one another as if to verify they all felt the same vibration. They were mostly from the east coast and few had ever felt an earthquake. The only one who certainly had exchanged a brief glance with her colleague, telling him that this was something else entirely. A sound then rose suddenly--deeper than the high pitched shriek of the wind and as persistent as the hammering of the rain on the roof and walls. The looks on the faces of the local experts gave both visitors from Washington another reason to shiver.

"Tell me we're close to some train tracks," Josh offered skittishly.

Before anyone could respond, the static emanating from the various two way radios held by those in the room was broken by squealing tones and the inaudible messages of those in the other ends. Another man, drenched and dripping threw open the door to the main room and shouted two words that provided all the answers.

"The dam!"

He disappeared as swiftly as he had appeared. The others swiftly followed the sodden man out the door, heading for their vehicles.

"Dam?" CJ repeated as Steven Kyle grasped her firmly by the arm to propel her toward the door, dragging Josh as well. "What the hell are we doing anywhere near a dam?"

"Leaving," Kyle said tersely, forcing them into the pounding rain.

They, like the others, fled to their vehicle. The wind lashed at their faces as the sky spit sheets of water at them. The ground sucked at their feet and then the tires as the jeep labored to start and then pull itself from the magnetic parking spot. Over the engine, the growling and rumbling not coming from the sky grew in intensity.

"Tornado?" CJ wondered as they tore down the winding trace road. The vehicles in front of them, with barely a 30 second head start, were invisible in the harsh storm.

"No," Kyle answered, fighting with the wheel to keep the vehicle on what appeared to be the road, though the ruts made it anyone's guess if they were on track or in a ditch. "It's water. We're about a mile from the dam. It's an earthen dam--never had problems."

"You've never had 18 inches of rain in half as many hours," CJ reminded him.

"Are we down stream from it?" Josh asked urgently.

"Not really," Kyle informed him with some relief. "The valley is just that, a valley. It's pretty flat so we're basically level with things. It's a wide valley so the water won't have as much velocity as it could. But we've gotta go somewhere."

"I vote not here," Josh offered, raising his hand slightly.

"This is one vote I hope you don't lose, Mr. Lyman," Kyle replied.

"Please, we're about to die," CJ said. "Call him Josh."

The vehicle abruptly stopped, as though slamming into a curbing. It bounced to the side and slid for several feet before turning over slowly and ending up on its side. Water and mud began to leak into the cabin. The three, startled and bruised, clambered out of the overturned jeep into the teeth of the storm. The scant light spilling from the sideways headlights revealed that the road was now imitating a widening streambed. Kyle peered at the underside of their transport and proclaimed it a loss.

"The axel is snapped," he said as he grabbed an orange rucksack out of the jeep and started to trudge forward, motioning the others to follow.

"Where are we going?" Josh yelled as they abandoned the wreck. "Shouldn't we stick close to the road?"

"See that stream?" Kyle shouted, leaning in to speak to them. The rain showered down upon them, making it difficult to see. "It doesn't belong here."

"And that's bad?" Josh inquired.

"It could be from the dam or it could be spillage from the Cape Fear River," Kyle continued. "Either way, it shouldn't be here. This road is about to become a riverbed. We've got to climb."

"I thought you said we were in a valley and everything was fairly level," CJ shouted.

"Fairly, not entirely," Kyle replied. "We've got to go."

"Where?" she shouted again. "You just said we're in a fairly level valley and the rivers are moving on us!"

"Argue with me later," Kyle insisted as he trudged forward. "Let's go. Stick close."

"Do you even know where we are?" CJ asked. "You said this isn't your territory."

"I saw the map," Kyle replied moving forward with great effort as the ground grew soggier.

"Then where are we?" Josh asked. 

"We're heading east," Kyle assured.

"I thought the road was east," CJ remarked. She, too, had looked at the map in the contact station. Though admittedly not a cartographer, she understood the basics of directions. 

"It is," Kyle said rushing forward with his travelers keeping ups as best as they could under the conditions. "If we head this way, we'll be parallel with the road."

"No, we're not," CJ stopped and shouted. "This is south. The road was over to the east. We went off it on the north and then crossed it to start walking. We're walking to the west on the south side of the road."

"Do you want to die?" Kyle said stopping and putting his face very close to hers as the sheets of rain sprayed off his lips. "Stand here and fight with me, and we all die. It's that simple, Miss Cregg!"

"Please, you're about to kill her," Josh stepped between them. "Call her CJ."

"I know direction," Kyle insisted. "This is what I do. Now move!"

"We're heading west," CJ said again, but started walking.

"I don't care," Josh said to silence her. "Let's just work on not being here."

The trio trudged onward, but movement was slow. The strong gusts of wind hampered forward progress as much as the ankle and at times calf-deep mud. They stopped abruptly as they reached a large outcropping of rocks. Kyle placed his hands on the stone and hung his head.

"No," Kyle growled as he met Josh and CJ's expectant eyes.

"Generally speaking, that's not a good sign things are going well, is it?" Josh asked.

Rather than answer, Kyle dove into his bag and hauled out a several loops of rope. He thrust the cords at Josh and CJ.

"Get it around you," he said frantically as he pulled toggle clips from inside the bag and began attaching them to his own belt and to another rope before feeding that line through the cords handed to his companions. "Tie it to your belt or something. Get it snug around your waist. Quickly!"

"Are we climbing something?" Josh asked as he began making a knot around the toggle clip. His fingers were slow and clumsy with the cold and fright. A sinking feeling began in his stomach as he saw Kyle lash the rope to the trunk of a large tree near their position.

"No," Kyle answered.

   "What's going on?" Josh asked frantically.

"We're west," CJ said, sounding disappointed and satisfied at the same time.

The ground beneath them suddenly heaved sideways. The slab of mud at their feet seemed to be propelled by a force coming from both above and below ground. After a blindly flash of pain up his left arm, Josh went down on his knees instantly and could hear no more sound.

He felt that he was upside down and turning over in the blackness. His eyes stung and there was a heavy weight on his chest. His mind told him many things all at once: He was moving, swiftly; he there was no air to breath; he was blind and he was about to die. As that final thought raced through his mind, he screamed. Rather, he tried to scream. He opened his mouth and caught a lung-full of silt filled water. The searing pain in his chest quickly identified itself. He had gone underwater and lost his breath; he was suffocating. He tried to expel the water but could not. There was no air to replace it. His chest ached and his body writhed in the watery grave. His mind became fuzzy. He knew this feeling from somewhere. He was drowning.

   He choked and coughed and gasped and gagged; his energy and will to fight the force surrounding him faded as the rushing-water carried him away.

*****************

_The White House_

_10:30 p.m.__ Tuesday_

"Leo, it's Governor Kyle," Margaret said stone-faced.

She was supposed to leave the office early tonight, but there was something in Leo's tone earlier that prompted her to stay even when he told her she could leave. The storm had subsided during the afternoon after it had stalled for an unexpected period over North Carolina.  Reports were flooding into the White House and painting a picture of an unprecedented swath of destruction to that region.

"Yeah," Leo said, stabbing at the blinking line on his phone. "Randall?.... I 'm guessing you'll need to be sending the revised estimates; there's a lot of precedent for it—Hurricane Andrew for example.  I just want you to know  that we're expecting revisions and we have FEMA and the SBA holding off on closing out their last…  I'm sorry?  What?  When?  Sunday?  Three days ago?  Why am I just…  My God, Randall.  I'm so sorry.  I…  Are they certain?  I mean, how reliable is…  Have you… identified anyone?  No, no.  I understand.... Right. I…  I understand.... I'll inform the President.... And Randall, tell Emily she has our prayers... Thank you."

Leo replaced the phone in the cradle. He looked at his clean desk and let his eyes rest upon the last printed report he received from the National Weather Service. The forecast, with its by-comparison with reality, dismally low predictions stared back at him as if to say, "Well, what are ya gonna do? It's the weather not science."

   "Leo, do you need me to…," Margaret trailed off as he shook his head.  She wasn't sure what he had heard on the phone, but his expression was ghastly enough that she knew to leave the office swiftly without question so that he could think in silence.  

_The technology we have, _he thought uselessly. _We can put a guy on the moon 30 years ago. Thirty years from now we might send a guy to Mars. We can put the heart of one guy into another one and he lives, but we didn't get this right._

"Leo?"

"Mr. President," Leo said surprised out of his trance to see him standing in his office. He stood to address the Commander-in-Chief. "I thought you had left for the night, sir."

"I did," Bartlet replied. "Couldn't sleep. I turned on CNN. They're quoting some heavy numbers in North Carolina--higher than we thought.  The storm is surely burned itself out by now."

   "Yeah," Leo said still stunned by his recent call.  "The northwestern part of the state is still seeing rain and the rivers are still rising.  The brunt of the storm is over  is nothing more than some thunderstorms in Pennsylvania and New Jersey right now."

   "Horatio certain made his mark," Bartlet said.  "He stormed in like a soldier, not a scholar.  But for a fluke if timing and he could have been named Fortinbras."

   "Yeah," Leo said distantly, looking the now-quite phone.

   "Leo?" Bartlet asked.  "It normally takes more than a passing Hamlet reference to make you get the glazed eye look."

"Governor Kyle called," Leo said stiltedly, conveying the business news first and looking for the proper words to deliver the other news. "The amended declaration will be here in an hour. The damage is looking like something close to what Hurricane Andrew in Dade County. Only half of the districts are reporting in; there's no communication ability in much of the state."

   "The cellular towers didn't stand a chance," Bartlet said.  "I saw some footage; the power and phone lines in Raleigh were snapped in half like match sticks.  Although the wind damage is significant, the flooding will be the worst of it.  Do they have casualty figures yet?"

   "Some," Leo said.  "There was an earthen dam.  It burst."

   "That's confirmed?" Bartlet asked.  

   "Yeah," Leo said and took a deep breath.  "They put up helicopters late this afternoon for the first time…  It laid waste to that valley and there are 37 confirmed dead from it so far.  They are expecting the number to rise.  Sir…"

"FEMA is high gear?  If they're not, you find a way to get a hold of Josh," Bartlet said sternly.  "I mean it, Leo.  I don't care if you need to send a carrier pigeon.  You have him roll heads if they can't get things together, and when they decide to ignore him, that's when you sic CJ on them.  Take out the big guns, Leo.  I don't want another fiasco like we saw in California during the fires last year."

   "Yes, but there's a problem, sir," Leo said.  

   "Carrier pigeon's on strike?" Bartlet quipped.  "Where are our people?  Did they call in yet or are they apart of the great blackout still?"

"Mr. President, Randall Kyle called to tell me….," Leo said then paused.   "It appears…  I…  I don't know how to…

   Leo?"

   "We've lost them," he said still stunned

   "Lost who?"

   "CJ and Josh," Leo said speaking the awful words as he noted a sour and bitter taste in his mouth as he did so.  "Randall said the last report he had they were with his son, Steve; he's one of the deputies with North Carolina Emergency Management. They were moving around and they were..."

"No."

"The dam that burst?" Leo continued.  "It sent a couple million gallons of water and mud tearing through Cape Fear basin.  They were there, sir. I'm not sure why, but the reports are that our people were with Steve Kyle and he was called in to do… whatever it is that he does, and they were all there."

   "When did this happen?"

   "It was on Sunday," Leo said.   

   "That was three days ago!" Bartlet seethed.  "Why am I just hearing this now?  What are they doing to…"

   "The state as been in the teeth of this storm, Mr. President," Leo said hotly.  "They're just crawling out of their shelters.  Randall called us as soon as he felt he had credible reports and I'm not sure screaming at me over the delay helps matters."

   "What do these allegedly credible reports say?" Bartlet asked in a stern yet lower tone.

   "Someone at a contact station up stream got a call on a radio the Kyle kid not long before the dam burst," Leo explained.  "He was at this location and tried to report in something about roads.  I didn't quite get that part.  They're still piecing together what happened from what they are finding at the debris site; communication is more of a wish than a reality right now. "

   "They have bodies?"

   "Some," Leo said.  "No one identified positively yet though.  They did find the car, Kyle's jeep, I guess.  It was imbedded in a mud slick with half a dozen other cars belonging to people who were likely with them when…  They're not certain they'll retrieve all the bodies, Mr. President.  There were mudslides and the water was moving fast and far, but the officials on the scene said all the cars had keys in the ignition in the on position."

   "People were driving them when this happened," Bartlet concluded.

   "Yeah."

     Bartlet stared back at his Chief of Staff, whose face was a dull, ashen gray. The President let the words and their implications sink in. 

"It's not something they're going to confirm yet, but we should consider this the call," Leo continued. 

"They were with his son, the governor's son?"

"Yeah, his oldest," Leo said.  "Randall called to let us know." 

"My god," Bartlet said softly as he took a seat on Leo's couch.  "This really happened?"

Leo nodded solemnly. For one who gave the appearance of being strictly intellectual and at times emotionally unapproachable, Leo knew how close this man was to the senior staff. The thought of two of them mauled by this beast of a storm was going to weigh heavily on the President. 

"Who has this?" Bartlet asked after a moment of contemplation.

"No one yet, sir," Leo said. "The governor doesn't want the story out yet. His wife doesn't know; he's trying to reach her but the phone lines are...  He only got a call out because the airport was able to patch a line through using something left over from the Korea War, if you can believe that."

"Yeah," Bartlet nodded. "With the Governor's son missing, that's not going to stay a secret long, 1950s technology not withstanding."

"We may have more information by daybreak," Leo said. "I see no reason to wake their families for this. There's nothing they can do."

"So long as they don't hear it first from the TV," Bartlet ordered.  "We tell them—in person if we can."

   "Donna is the only one here," Leo informed the President.

   "I want someone with each of them," Bartlet said.  "You wake people up, Leo.  You get our friends to find their friends, and they are at the door when we give them the news; CJ's father will need someone there to make sure he understands.  As for Josh's mother…."

"I'll take care of it," Leo said.

   "When should I make the calls?" Bartlet asked.

   "In the morning…. I'll let you know," Leo said.  "But…  I…  I feel an obligation to call Anna Lyman myself, sir."

   "It's not your fault, Leo," Bartlet assured him.  

   "Yeah, it is," Leo said.  "I didn't make it rain, but I sent him out; I promised her I… he…..  I hired him.  I never fired him—despite a litany of reasons to do so.  Not that it matters now.  She's not going to care about that.  She's only going to hear…."

   "She's a strong woman," Bartlet said.  "I'll let you make the call, but I will deliver my own condolences."

   "Yes, sir," Leo said tightly.

   "I don't suppose there's any chance?"

   "No, sir," Leo said shaking his head.  "Not really.  They combed the area today and didn't find any survivors. Randall wouldn't have called with this kind of news if he thought there was a reasonable chance."

   "But they're smart," Bartlet argued as though it mattered.  "Randall's son is an emergency rescue specialist, right?  He knows how to deal with this kind of thing.  And our people… They could surprise us."

"Not to be the voice of gloom, but smart doesn't count in a contest like this," Leo said dejectedly.  "Face it, Josh couldn't find his way home from Indiana on three tries in reasonably good weather and CJ gets lost on Dupont Circle when she's tired.  This storm was something else, sir. Neither of them is what you'd call.... I mean, Josh's idea of roughing it is when he has to carry his own golf clubs. CJ's so out of place in the outdoors that she thinks cows are vengeful and have a coast-to-coast conspiracy against her."

"CJ can run a mile backwards in high heels while taking questions from the Press and Josh is from New England--southern New England--but New England all the same," Bartlet stated.  "We're a hardy people, Leo."

"If there were rabid reporters on her heels or if this was just your average Friday night shooting at the White House, I'd have all the faith in the world in CJ," Leo said. "As for Josh's residential background.... I don't place as much faith in the hardiness of New Englanders as you do, sir."

"I'll let that last blasphemy go because you're obviously overcome with anxiety," Bartlet remarked. "It might be Connecticut, but he's from the coast, Leo. It's not like he's never seen a hurricane before."

"No sir," Leo disagreed. "It is like he never has. I'm not talking about a heavy rain storm that floods the basement and wind that snaps a limb off the old maple tree. This was a category 5 hurricane that devastated half of North Carolina.  Neither of our people ever weathered a storm in a tin shed or under a pile of sticks or out in the open before; not many people who ever have survived. Sir, most people don't spend the worst hours of a horrendous and deadly storm outside--even if they're crazy and from New England."

"That crazy remark was for me, wasn't it?" the President asked.

"Yeah," Leo nodded confidently.

"Run from the water and hide from the wind," Bartlet shrugged. "Those are his word, Leo.  Sounded like they had solid plan to me. The Kyle boy was an expert on this stuff. I've heard more tragedies like this in the last few years than I ever feared possible and each time I walk away with the same feeling: This stuff isn't supposed to happen.  Our people are supposed to be survivors, Leo."

"I don't think nature cared about that," Leo shook his head. 

*****************

_Presidential Residence_

_2 a.m._, Wednesday__

   Bartlet sat in near the windows and stared into the starless night.  The clouds were heavy but quiet.  A box of photos sat on the end table near his elbow.  In the box were a scattering of photos taken during the first campaign.  He was most interested in the life-in-action photos—those ones in which the staff was neither posed nor aware the photo was being taken.  CJ and Josh were in so many.  Much of his senior staff was.  Bartlet noticed the one thing most absent was his own presence.  He also recalled that when most of the pictures were taken he was still struggling to keep the identities of Josh, Toby and Sam straight in his head and he shamelessly thought of CJ as "that tall girl."  They both had such command when in a room that it was hard to believe he could have ignored them so easily.  

   Another thing that struck him was the way CJ carried herself.  In not one picture, not even those when she was on the phone or reading, did he chin seem to be down.  It was as though she possessed only the ability to strike a regal and confident pose.  It was something he knew about her after a time, but it had been present even back before she had a name to him.  

   And Josh.  Bartlet never recalled him smiling as much as he did in those pictures.  It was not a full-blown toothy grin, but it was a genuine air of contentment and pleasure in what he was doing.  For someone with such a troubled life and one who knew more about the kinds of pain for which there is no clear cure or description, Josh had found happiness.  He found it in a professional career at which he excelled and more recently in a personal connection with a woman who without a doubt worshipped the quicksand he walked on perhaps even more than he himself did.  There was a sagaciousness in his sharp and frustrated wit Bartlet simply adored the way only a father can adore such a thing.

   "Jed?" Abbey called to him as she tiptoed into the darkened room.  "I woke up and you hadn't come to bed yet.  What is it?  What's wrong?"

   The President didn't hold back his emotion any longer.  It was well and fine to keep the straight face with Leo, but this was his equal and the woman who knew more about him than he knew about himself.  That level of comfort in her being and his trust in her, as much as his love for her, allowed the tears to spill over his lids and the feelings to emerge.

   "They're gone," he said painfully.  "We lost CJ and Josh.   They're both gone."

   "What?" she exclaimed and pressed her hands instantly to her lips.  "No.  What happened?"

   "We got word from North Carolina," Bartlet said in a shaky voice as she took a seat beside him and wrapped her arms around him.  "They were in the path of the dam that burst.  Randall Kyle's son was with them.  We were told no one survived."

   "My god," Abbey cried softly.  "Both of them?  They're sure?"

   "Leo spoke with Randall," Bartlet said, composing himself.  "They don't have bodies, but the whole team was wiped out.  It looks like no one made it.  There were mudslides and there was massive flooding.  It shredded that valley and everything in it.  They likely drown or were buried in the mudslides.  We may never know."

   "Have you called their families?" Abbey asked.

   "We're going to wait until morning," Bartlet replied.  "Might as well let them have their sleep.  There's nothing they can do now."

   "What if they…"

   "We're calling first thing in the morning," he said quickly.  "They won't hear it on the news.  We'll see to that.  Leo's calling Toby in; he's going to give the news to CJ's family.  Leo will call Josh's mother.  He feels guilty, but I'm the one who promised her she would never receive news like this from us again."

   "Jed," Abbey said soothingly.  "It's not your fault.  No one could have foreseen this.  Josh's mother won't blame you."

   "I don't care if she does," Bartlet said, thinking back to the conversation he had with her after the election was finalized.  "She's entitled after everything she's been through."

   "That poor woman," Abbey sighed.  "To bury both of her children….  I can't imagine anything worse."

   "I pray you never have to," he said stroking her hair and saying yet another prayer of thanks for the healthy and safety of his family.  "We'll tell the staff in a few hours and break the news to the press ourselves after we talk with the families.  I'm going to be making some remarks in the afternoon; I'd like you to… I need you to be there with me."

*****************

_Toby's Office_

_Wednesday, __5:47 a.m._

   "How do I do it?" Sam asked Toby as they sat in Toby's office.  "How do you tell someone… this?"

   "It helps if you can use the words," Toby said, solemnly, not meaning to be harsh.  "You have to say the words, Sam.  I can do this if you…"

   "No," he said quickly.  "I should do this.  Please, let me.  I don't want to, but I feel like I should.  I mean…"

   "But you can't even say the words yet," Toby said gently.  "Sam, you have to say…"

   "How do I tell her he's never coming home when I can barely believe it myself?" Sam said, his throat growing tight and a burning sensation beginning in the back of his eyes.  "How do you tell a person that someone who always makes it back from stuff like this, who always somehow manages to survive, didn't?  Toby, he can't be."

   Toby exhaled quickly, trying to gain his composure.  He was going to make a phone call similar to Sam's awful errand.  At least Sam had the luxury of knowing his assignment.  Toby knew CJ's stepmother to pick her out in a crowd but beyond that…  But he couldn't fault Sam for his emotion.  There was no way not to feel this pain, this shock deeply.  There was a surreal quality to this whole tragic event that defied logic or explanation.  It was a storm.  A lot of people died, but none of them should have been people either he or Sam knew much less cared about.  

   "Does the President know?" Sam asked suddenly, seemingly in control.

   "Yeah," Toby nodded quickly.  

   The ghastly look on the President's face as he and Leo met with Toby that morning was another in a long line of expressions he wished devoutly to forget yet knew he never would.  The pain was deep for both men.  The President's sorrow was nearer to the surface—caring outwardly about the people around him came easily for the man.  Leo was a different story.  His affection was something he kept close and unspoken for both staffers.  And while Toby knew the Chief of Staff would miss both of those lost in equal measures, he suspected the pain of losing Josh would be acute in a more personal way.  Not that CJ wasn't as important, but his relationship with Josh had always had other levels; though the man would deny it, Toby always suspected Leo considered himself a quasi- (if at times gruff and unwilling) father figure to Josh.  

   "But what if they're wrong?" Sam said for the tenth time that morning.  "They didn't cover the whole area.  They might be there and just weren't….  They could be safe and just waiting or they could be…."

   "As of 10 o'clock last night, they had found nine cars on what was left of that road," Toby explained.  "Half of them are buried in nearly four feet of mud.  Sam, the water alone—the sheer force and tonnage of it—leveled homes; that and the mud slide shattered everything that got in its way.  It threw a fleet of cars miles in its rampage.  People don't survive that."

   "But they haven't been found," Sam argued helplessly, knowing his rational wasn't going to change the news but unable to accept what he had been told.

   "They didn't find all the bodies, but all the cars are in the same place, and everyone who was in them is dead," Toby said difficultly.  "They found some of the victims but not all, yet.  They might never find them all., Sam  I know, believe me, I know how hard that is to accept.  The same things running through your head have been running through my head for nearly an hour longer.  I keep imagining how she must have…  or what he….  It's atrocious and it hurts me, Sam.  I have a stabbing pain in my throat and just about every part of me is still trembling.  I know what you're thinking and hoping, and for your own good and for Donna's you have to--"

   "But we don't know if Josh and CJ were in one of those cars," Sam insisted.  "I'm just saying that—"

   "Sam!" Toby snapped.  "The Governor called.  He's been told his son's car was there with the others that ended up in that… gully or whatever.  There are members of Steve Kyle's team in other vehicles, and they are dead.  We know he was with his team, and we know that CJ and Josh were with him, too.  He died.  They died.  Everyone who was there died.  They are identifying bodies they found, but they know some were swept away; they had to be.  This whole thing won't be official for a few days, but we've been told.  Okay?  Technically, they are missing and only presumed lost, but we've been told.  They're not coming home.  Josh and CJ are dead.  They're gone."

   Sam tipped his head forward and placed his head in his hands, pushing his glasses off his face as tears moistened his cheeks.  _This didn't happen, he told himself.  _I'm not sitting in Toby's office; I'm certainly not crying, and CJ and Josh are not dead.  Here's what I'm going to do.  I'm going to wake up and realize it was all a dream—that and never eat day-old General Tso's Chicken out of the refrigerator beside Carol's desk before going home to sleep.  I am going to open his eyes and see the clock in the nightstand telling me it was __3 a.m.___ and I can sleep for three more hours before I have to go to work.  _

   Sam took a deep breath, forced his eyes open and picked up his head.

   He met Toby's face, as ashen and grim as it had been just moments ago.

   "Make your choice, Sam," he said somberly.  "I'll tell her if you can't." 

****************

_Leo McGarry's Office_

_7 a.m. _

    Leo sat in his office and stared at the piece of paper. There in Margaret's handwriting was Anna Lyman's telephone number. He sighed heavily and ran a hand over his face. Leo never thought he'd have to make this call. But someone had to tell her that Josh wasn't coming home.

    Leo put his glasses on and picked up the phone. He stabbed the numbers and the phone began to ring. After three rings it was answered.

    "Hello?" Anna said brightly at this early hour.

    Leo paused. "Anna, uh… It's Leo… McGarry."

    "Oh, hello," she replied shortly.

    "Yeah," he sighed. "I'm very sorry to call you like this."

    "What is it?" Anna asked quickly. 

    Leo looked towards the ceiling, trying to find something there to help him. "Look, David Masters – you remember him?  He was a partner with Noah at his firm. He's…he's coming to your house. He should be there any minute. I have some news and we didn't want you to be alone only he called and he's stuck in traffic.  He'll be there shortly."

    "No," Anna said softly, her worst fears seeping from the recesses of her mind.  "Why are you…?"

    "Anna, I'm so very sorry," Leo said, his voice cracking slightly. "Josh was in North Carolina; he got stuck there because of the weather and…  We received a call from the governor and there was…  There was an accident."

    "God, no," Anna choked. "Is he hurt?  How badly?  Where is he?"

    "Anna, stay on the phone with me," he requested. "Okay? Please, just listen to me. Can you do that? Do you promise me you won't hang up or put down the phone?"

    "Leo tell me!"

    "I'm so sorry," he apologized.  "Anna. I am… I can't even… I'm sorry.  There was nothing anyone could do.  He drowned, Anna.  He's gone.  Josh is dead."

    "No," Anna sobbed. "Not my baby."

    "I know," Leo said. "The governor called after he…  His own son was with them."

    "My god," Anna gasped. "Donna?"

    "No, she was here in Washington," Leo answered.  "She's here.  She's okay.  Sam Seaborn is at the house with her right now.  I didn't want her to have to make this call."

    "Tell me what happened," Anna demanded. "Tell me everything, Leo."

    "We don't know much right now," Leo explained. "They were…"

   "You keep saying they," Anna insisted.  "Who is they?"

   "CJ Cregg was with him," Leo said somberly.  "CJ, Josh and the governor's son were together when a dam burst upstream from them. That was on Sunday apparently."

   "Sunday?"

   "The storm prevented anyone from…," Leo sighed.  "Apparently the National Guard found the site on Monday afternoon and they were just able to identify who was in the vicinity late yesterday."

   "He drowned?"

   "We think so," Leo said, dreading the next information he had to impart.

   "You think?" she asked.  

   "Anna…Oh, god, I don't know how to say this," Leo took a deep breath.  "They weren't recovered.  The… bodies."

    "I don't understand," she gasped.  "Then how do you know that he's…"

    "We know," he said solemnly.  "There is enough evidence at the site to show that their car had…  People were in the car and the car got swept away with the flood.  It was millions of gallons of water and… With the rains and the flooding and the rest of the storm…  There was a lot of havoc there and… It's a disaster area."

    "My god," Anna whispered. "I've… I've got to…  I have to call Donna.  She shouldn't be alone."

    "She's not alone," Leo reiterated. "Sam is with her.  We're going to take care of her."

   "I have to go to… Where was he?  Where did you say?"

   "Anna, you can't go to North Carolina," Leo explained.  "There is nothing you can do.   There's nothing for you there."

   "My son is there!"

   "He's not there," Leo said.  "He's just…  He's gone, Anna.  He's gone."

   "I want to see him," she wept.  "I want to see my baby."

   "I know you do," Leo said difficultly feeling the hot stinging prickle of tears in the corners of his eyes and he fought to hold his composure.  "But I think Donna might need you here.  I'm having my secretary book you a flight. I will get you here as soon as humanly possible."

    "I can do it myself," Anna said defiantly.

   "I know," he agreed.  "But let me do at least this much for you."

   She sniffled her assent.  "I don't mean to be harsh," she said after a moment of silence.  "Despite what I may think, my Joshua… he… he cared for you.  He respected you a great deal.  You meant so much to him."

    "Please don't…"

    "He would have done anything you asked him to do," she said.  "Did you ask him to go to North Carolina?"

   "No, but it is my fault that he was there," Leo admitted. "I can't…. I don't have the words to tell you how sorry I am.  Parents aren't supposed to out live their children."

   "I've done it twice," she said distantly.  "That's two times too many."

    "I know it is," he agreed. "I know it's not nearly the same, but we lost two of them, too.  Everyone here, they're all in a daze.  I'm not sure how we come back from something like this.  No one can believe this happened.  Josh was…  He wasn't always the most popular person in this town but he was admired and adored by a lot more people than I think he realized."

    "Two?" Anna asked.

    "Yeah," Leo sighed heavily, repeating that part of the conversation again. "CJ Cregg was with Josh."

    "Oh no…" she gasped. "Leo…"

    "I think it would be best if you avoided the TV and radio for a few days," he suggested. "The story broke about 20 minutes ago.  We've arranged with your mayor to have someone outside your house and Donna's for the time being to keep any reporters away. This is one of those stories that is going to play for a few days. You should know that the official…declaration…won't come for another 48 hours or so, but the families are notified when the folks on site have determined that… It's won't be official for a while, is all I'm saying."

    "Yes," Anna said quietly.

    "He was…" Leo remarked. "Josh was amazing. I don't think I said that to him, but I believed it."

    "My boy always was," Anna paused and then took a shaky breath, "nothing short of a miracle."

    "Yes, he was," he concurred. "As far as the politics go, he was exceptional.  He was well-respected. He never seemed to care that much what others thought of him and that's what made him so good at his job. Some guys go into politics for the power, but Josh…He loved it and it showed in how he did his work. You could write a dozen books on what he accomplished in just his time in the White House."

    "I detested his job," she sighed.  "I was so afraid that he would…"

    Leo remained silent as Anna sobbed. "He would never have left. This was what he was meant to do, Anna. You know that. This is what he wanted and he was happy doing it. He was probably happier here than anywhere at any other time of his life."

    "No," Anna corrected. "He was happier, Leo. He was happier the day he married Donna."

    "She is a part of this."

    "A part of her was, yes," she replied. "But she's so much more than an assistant to him.  He…  I had never heard him so… so content as when he was around her."

    "I know," Leo nodded. "He loved her. It wasn't hard to see that.  She certainly challenged him.  His faith and trust in her is… was boundless. I'm certain he'd be glad that she was spared…"

    "Promise me you'll take care of her," Anna requested. "For Joshua."

    "We will," he promised. "We will look after her and see that she gets whatever it is she needs. You can count on that.  The President is quite concerned about her—he's very fond of Donna himself.  He plans on calling you shortly and I'm certain he will extend that same promise; Donna is part of this family as well."

    "Thank you."

    "Josh meant a lot to us," Leo confessed. "To the President, the staff… to me."

    "You meant the world to him," Anna replied.

    "Yeah," he replied as tightness in his throat occurred.

    "Someone is here," she said after a shaky breath.  "I think David is at the door.  I should go."

    "Margaret will call you as soon as she has flights arranged," Leo said. "Please accept my deepest sympathy and if there is anything any of us can do, the phone only needs to ring once, do you understand?"

    "Yes," Anna said. 

    Leo hung up the phone and sighed.  He turned to his computer to type up an email when he noticed the time.  The call had taken less than 10 minutes yet he felt it must surely be the end of the day. 

*****************

_Lyman House_

_Wednesday __7:15 a.m._

"Donna, I know it must hurt, but you're going to get through this," Sam assured her.  "I'm here for you.  For whatever you need." 

He hadn't expected this reaction. Donna was always a real trooper at the office. When things went wrong, she was always the one assistant you could expect to nod, say _Okay, what do you need me to do?_ She was a lot like Josh in that respect. Whatever she was feeling inside stayed there--usually. This sudden burst of emotion was understandable, but it still startled Sam.  For some reason, he had convinced himself that Donna would react better than he had in Leo's office less than an hour earlier.

"I don't believe this," she sniffled, trying to pull herself together. "When it rains it pours, right?"

Sam said nothing. The awful pun surrounding her words was not lost on him. Instead, he shook his head and gently grasped her hand offering her the only support he could.

"I wish I could tell you that we still had some hope," Sam said again. "God, if you knew how much I wanted to be able to look you in the eye and tell you truthfully that there was a chance he was probably with 50 other people waiting for the phone lines to start working again so they can call to say they're fine….  But I can't do that.  I want it to be true, but I don't get to make that happen.  Things like this shouldn't happen but…"

"That's not how it works," Donna said shakily. "I just can't take this…. Not now.  Oh god--excuse me."

Donna stood suddenly and bolted down the hall to the first floor bathroom. Sam waited for her to return--grimacing as he heard the retching noise she made. He shook his head and felt the familiar pang of guilt he experienced anytime he was offered a sign of how much Donna cared for Josh. She was currently so worried she was in the bathroom being sick over the chance that he might be safe and sound. Sam was reminded again that he had always underestimated the depth of her feelings.

She returned moments later, looking pale and shaken. She apologized through her sniffling.

"Donna, what can I do to help you?" Sam asked.  "Tell me and it's done.  If it's within my power, I'll do it.  Please.  Something.  I feel like I need to do something."

"The only thing I want you can't give me," she said tearfully.

   "At least let me get you some water," Sam said standing and eager for action.  "Or juice.  Or coffee.  Yeah, let me get you some coffee."

   "Oh, no," she said feeling her gorge rise again at the mere thought of coffee.  "Nothing, please.  I just need to catch my breath.  I'm…  I'm just not feeling well."

"So I noticed," Sam said. "I understand."

   "No, you don't," she sobbed softly.

"Okay, maybe I don't," he relented, his shoulders drooping in defeat.  "You don't look well.  Well, maybe you should see a doctor." 

   "I saw my doctor last week," she sniffled and profusely wiped the steady stream of tears from her eyes which thankfully were no longer itchy and red.

   "And?"

   "I'm pregnant," she said softly, burying her face in her hands as she started sobbing heavily again.

   "What?" Sam asked as a reluctant by pleased grin spread across his haggard face.  It faded slowly as he began to understand the depth of the loss and dread she must be feeling. "Well, that's…  That's wonderful.  Congratulations!"

   "Don't say that," she said somberly as she shook her head.

   "Don't say that?" Sam repeated. "What kind of response is that? This is good news. I'll tell you what it is. It's a sign. You're going to be all right; you've got a lot of people around to help you and…  And you didn't lose Josh completely.  Did he know?"

"No," Donna snapped.  

   "Oh," Sam replied suspiciously. "Why not?"

"Sam, it's not...," she said sharply, wishing she'd kept her secret. "It's complicated. Look, you can't tell anyone. No one, do you understand? This is.... I don't want anyone to know and I should have never said anything to you."

"Okay," he said soothingly. "But it's good news, Donna.  At a time like this, good news can be amazing medicine."

"Just don't say anything," Donna said. "It's complicated, Sam.  You have to promise me that you won't tell anyone.  I mean it!"

"Okay," he remarked with concern. "Just know that I'm here for you—for whatever you need.  Donna, I loved Josh like a brother, and family takes care of family.  I'm going to see to it that you and this baby are taken care of.  I promise you that."

   "Sam, we are not talking about this," Donna said trying to end the conversation. "I shouldn't have said anything to you."

   "Okay," Sam said embracing her as she cried softly again.  "It's all right  You have my word--I don't know anything about... you know, the thing I don't know anything about."

   "Thank you," she said, blinking back the rest of her tears and taking a deep breath. 

   "But we're having a baby, huh?" Sam said joyfully, hoping to lift her spirits. "Another Lyman. Sounds like a movie title.  Actually, now that I think of it, I don't know if the world's ready for a Josh/Donna hybrid.  I think you need Congressional approval for something of this magnitude."

   Donna  said nothing prayed for a way to end the discussion before he tore her heart and soul up further. 

   "House Resolution 2504, the Bill to allow the creation of a Lymanette," Sam continued, noting that despite the wan smile on her face, the dark cast in her eyes did not brighten. 

   "Lymanette?" she repeated.

   "Yeah," he nodded.  "You're right.  It sounds like some kind of candy you buy at the movies.  Or some type of Jewish chorus line."

   She buried her face in her hands and allowed herself an instant of dry laughter to wring the rest of the stress from her mind.  Tears streamed from her eyes again. 

   "You're a good friend, Sam," she said as she hugged him. 

   "I know," he agreed.  "I'm kind of cute, too."

"Will you stay here?" Donna asked as she took a deep breath.  "I have to call Anna…  Oh god, how do I tell her?"

   "Donna, I told you," Sam reminded her as he put his arm around her shoulders.  "Leo was calling her.  He didn't want you to have to tell her that kind of news."

   "But I should be the one…."

   "You have other news to tell her," Sam said and received a stern and cold glare.  "When you're ready." 

**Up next, Chapter 14: _Eulogies A__nd The Lazarus Factor_**


	14. Eulogies and The Lazarus Factor

**Title:  Heaven and Hell:** **_Eulogies and The Lazarus Factor_** (Chapter 14)

**Authors**: Enigmatic Ellie and Westwinger247

**Webpage**: http://wing_nuts.tripod.com

**Email:** e_allen@hotmail.com    or   minorleeg@yahoo.com

**Notes:**  _This is the sequel to the award-winning sequel to The Quest.  For our faithful (and vocal) fans: We're writing as fast as we can.  Thanks for the interest.  Reviews are encouraged—they make us write faster sometimes_.

Lyman House 

_Wednesday, __7 pm___

Mallory O'Brien walked up the sidewalk towards the house. The air surrounding the home seemed different. It was still and quiet where she expected there to be a sense of commotion.  There were no cars in the driveway, no visitors paying their respects.  The only indication that anyone was home was the faint glow of lights visible deep within the house.  Mallory knew Josh's mother had arrived late that morning and did not think she would be traipsing around the District visiting under the circumstances.  She approached the front door with a growing feeling of unease.  Part of her wanted to turn around and leave before anyone knew she was here.  She felt like she was intruding.  Perhaps everyone had stopped by earlier and had been sent away so that Donna and her mother-in-law could have some privacy.  Mallory wasn't sure what the protocol was for this situation.  She was raised Catholic and those traditions dictated there should be a gaggle of people in the home comforting, consoling, reminiscing and taking care of whatever needed to be taken care of, but this was a different situation.  That was obvious just by looking at the home.  There was no wreath adorning the outside of the house like the way Mallory recalled from the death's of her own family members in the past.  It was odd to think of a thing like that, she noted.  She was not a religious person herself and never knew Donna to be so.  And Josh was never…  

Mallory shook her head.  She had known him for a long time and known about him even longer.  Still, some part of her felt he was a stranger.  Josh was not an easy person to know, in her estimation.  He had always seemed so predictable—she always knew precisely what he might think or say about any subject.  She came to know him better as he became her father's protégé and even then there did not seem to be much under the surface.  He was like every other politician in Washington, but her eyes were opened as the years passed.  Much of that was due to her friendship with Sam.  Sam knew Josh in a way few people in that town ever could.  Sam himself said it best, they were like brothers.  She knew Sam was in great pain and taking tremendous strides not to show it right now.  She paused at the steps to the home as she pictured the speechwriter with that same ghastly expression—the one that was still hoping all this was a bad dream—sitting at his desk trying to write a final good bye for someone who was not supposed to leave this soon.

With a deep sigh she release those images from her head and made her way up the few steps of the porch and rang the bell.  After several moments, Donna opened the door with a drawn and listless expression.

"Hi Donna," Mallory smiled wanly.  "If this is a bad time…"

"Mallory," Donna said solemnly. "Please, come in."

Mallory noticed how pale and sickly Donna looked. She also took stock of her appearance. Donna was clad in a Yale sweatshirt and sweatpants.  Her hair was knotted limply at the back of her head.  She looked battered and defeated.

"I brought cookies for you and Mrs. Lyman," Mallory offered, holding up the bag.  "It's not much, but….  I wanted to do something and this is what I managed in a pinch."

"Thank you," Donna stated as she made her way into the kitchen. "You really shouldn't have."

"I wanted… I needed to do something," Mallory said. "We're you asleep? I didn't mean to wake you."

"No, I couldn't sleep even if I wanted to," Donna replied though she looked and sounded exhausted.  "Toby stopped by and asked Anna if she'd like to go to temple with him.  I know I should have offered to go, but…."

"It's okay," Mallory said as she placed hand on Donna's arm. "I'm sure she understands."

Donna nodded and took a seat in the breakfast nook. 

"Thank you for stopping by," she said after a moment.  "Are you on your way home?"

"No," Mallory replied.  "I'm staying at my Dad's place tonight."

"How is Leo?" Donna asked.

"Putting up a good front," Mallory responded.  "It's crazy at the office right now so he's…  Forget about that.  I just meant that he misses both of them like crazy.  He'd rather have died himself."

Donna brushed a small tear from her cheek as she listened.  Leo and Josh had not always had the smoothest relationship.  There were times, many times in her estimation, where Leo took Josh for granted.  But Josh would never have agreed with that; his loyalty to Leo was without bounds and he had spent the better part of the previous six years doing whatever Leo bid him to do.  

"It's not his fault," Donna said softly.  

"My father isn't very good at showing how he feels and he can be very gruff sometimes," Mallory said.  "But he does care about the people he works with; Josh was very special to my father."

Donna nodded.  She had not spoken with Leo yet.  He had called but she let the machine pick up.  She couldn't speak to him any more than she could speak to the President.  She wasn't prepared for that yet and wasn't sure she would ever be.  Even speaking with Sam, something she had done several times, was unbelievably painful.  Toby had sent a message to her and Josh's mother, but Donna had not read it.  The tears that spilled over Anna's cheeks as she read the note told Donna all she needed to know so that when he arrived to get Anna she had stayed in the bedroom until they were gone.  She feared that seeing anyone from the office again would start her crying and unleash a pain so deep she might never stop.  The more she thought about it, the more Donna just wanted everything to be over with quickly.  Going through an unending round of sympathy from others would make her angry at Josh for being so well known and even well liked by some of those who were offering their condolences—and she wasn't prepared to be mad at him just yet.  That would come in time, she knew.

"So…?" Mallory began, picking up a section of _The Washington Post_. "What are you looking at?"

"Stuff," Donna said, taking the paper from Mallory. "I'm trying to keep up on current events."

"Donna," Mallory soothed. "That was the real estate section."

"I've been doing some thinking," Donna said, rubbing her eyes.

"Donna, I'm sure you've got a thousand concerns and worries right now," Mallory sighed. "But there will be time for that soon enough.  Right now, you just have to take things one day at a time.  And if there's anything you need, you have a lot of people right here waiting to help."

"I've been looking at our financial…," she began but Mallory cut her off quickly.

"This is what I'm talking about," Mallory cut in.  "Donna, now is not the time to worry about that kind of stuff.  If you're worried about Josh's will or anything like that, I'm sure Sam can help. He's quite good and he would gladly help.  So put that out of your mind.  You need to take care of yourself right now and not worry about anything else just yet."

"I'm not worried about Josh's estate," Donna said.  "He updated his will in July after we bought the house and if there are any problems we have an attorney.  I mean, Anna has one that she trusts.  His name is Ira Rosen; he's from Josh's father's old firm, and I'm calling him tomorrow."

"Why so soon?"

"I need things in order quickly," Donna replied.  "I'm selling the house."

"You're what?"

"I'm selling the house," Donna repeated. "It's… too big."

Mallory sighed and swallowed the lump in her throat as she watched Donna fight to keep her composure.  She looked around at the bright kitchen and recalled the first time she saw the house—just a month after they moved in.  Mallory had been envious of Donna then.  She was in love and had just had what was probably the most romantic wedding Mallory had ever heard about and was moving into a beautiful home to start her new life.  Now, what she saw was likely on par with Donna's vision: large, lonely rooms and no one to share her life with any longer.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Mallory said.  "Maybe at some point in the future, but I…."

"I need to do this," Donna said firmly.

"Okay," Mallory replied cautiously.  "Is there anything I can do?  I can help you look for an apartment."

"I'm not getting an apartment," Donna said.  "I'm leaving Washington."

"What?" her guest questioned.  "Why?  Where are you going?"

"Florida," Donna stated. 

"Florida?" Mallory asked. "Donna, you have your job, your friends…"

Donna stared out the window and sighed as she answered.

"I can't go back to the White House," she said softly.  "I won't.  I don't have a job there."

"Of course you do," Mallory replied. "They won't fire you; my father will see that you have a position."

"I don't work for Leo," Donna said simply. "I don't work for the President. I worked for Josh."

"Donna…"

            "He won't be there, Mallory," Donna said as wiped another errant tear from her lid. "I couldn't live with it. Day in and day out, walking the halls and knowing he's not there… that he's not ever going to be there again.  That building was his whole life. It ran through his blood. He lived for his job and…."

            "The job wasn't his entire life, Donna," Mallory ardently.  "He had you."

"Yeah," Donna said absentmindedly pulling a cookie from the bag Mallory had brought.  

"Why are you going to Florida?" Mallory asked.

"Because of Anna," Donna said.  "I love my family. They want me to come home, but Anna has _no one_. For the last few years, he's all she had.  She has friends, but…. I can't leave her alone, Mallory.  It would…. It would kill Josh to see her like this and I can't have that.  She needs me Mallory and I intend to be there for her."

"When do you plan on leaving?"

"I don't know," Donna shrugged. "I'll turn in my resignation after the memorial service. I'll meet with a real estate agent after I talk with Mr. Rosen.  This house should sell pretty quickly.  I have a lot of packing to do but we barely unpack so it won't be too difficult to reverse the process.  I will need Sam's help for one thing."

"What?"

"Josh's office here," she said nodding toward the hallway that led to the darkened room—the one she couldn't enter for the same reason she dreaded a return to the White House.  "I don't really know what's in there and there might be…. stuff that should go to whoever the President appoints to replace Josh."

"They'll never replace him," Mallory offered feeling a sharp sting in her eyes as she fought off tears.  "My father said that.  They might get someone else to do the job, but no one could ever replace Josh Lyman."

"Thank you," Donna sniffled.

Mallory left her seat enveloped Donna in a hug and rubbed her back as the tears streamed down Donna's face.

"I'm sorry," Donna apologized as she pulled away. She quickly wiped her face dry. "I didn't mean to do that.  I just….  I want him back and I can't have that."

"It's okay," Mallory assured her. "Donna, this has been the worst day of your life and it probably doesn't seem like it will ever get better, but it does.  Don't ask me how or when, but it does.  Josh knew that better than anyone else I know and he wouldn't want you to let grief get the better of you.  Take your time.  Lean on your friends right now.  I understand that you want to help Anna, but I'm not sure selling the house and leaving Washington is wise so soon after… all this.  You're acting out of grief right now and you're not thinking everything through clearly.  I'm not saying you shouldn't go through with your plans, but maybe you should let a few more days pass before you start taking any big steps.  All of us – Dad, Sam, Toby – you mean a lot to us, Donna. And it's not because you worked for Josh. You know that right?"

"It's what I _have_ to do, Mal," Donna declared. "I to take care of some things but once that's over, I'm going to be with Anna.  Selling the house will earn a good profit.  I can use the money to get myself a place in Florida so I can be near Anna and get myself set up to start over."

"Okay," Mallory acquiesced. "As long as you're certain."

"I am."

"Are you sure that you don't want Sam to help?" Mallory asked. "You might not be in the right frame of mind.  I know you said Anna has a lawyer, but I know Sam wants to do something to help."

"He's too busy," Donna shook her head.

"Please, let Sam help you," Mallory pleaded.  "Donna, I know you're hurting, but he lost Josh, too.  He's got it in his head that he needs to take care of you.  Sam is an honorably kind of guy.  I may not always agree with him, but he's a good man and he's been a good friend to you and to Josh for a long time.  He wants to help you and… I think he needs to help you so that he can get through this."

"I don't want to be a burden," Donna said awkwardly.

Mallory shook her head. "I don't think that will be a problem. Josh meant a lot to Sam and he would move heaven and earth to help you."

Donna sighed. "I'll think it over."

_*****************_

_Leo McGarry's Office_

_11:23 p.m.___

            Margaret reluctantly bid Leo good-night as she buttoned her coat.  She didn't like leaving him, but she was exhausted.  The immense hole left in the administration with the morning's news had been four time as much running around—some of it literally—in order to get even the most mundane tasks accomplished.  Leo had taken the day in stride, which worried her as such things always did, but she was at least satisfied that he would not be alone.  Mallory was going to stay with him, using some transparent rouse of her apartment being painted and the fumes bothering her.  The secretary turned off her light and with weary steps left the office.

            Leo saw her light go out and was comforted to know he had at least a few moments of quiet to himself.  All day, it was a running battle to get things done and dodge asinine questions about how he was feeling.  He was feeling the way everyone else felt: shock, sadness and anxiety.  They were top-notched staffers and good friends.  They were gone.  It wasn't an easy thing to swallow if you were working in a tiny business that had little impact on the world around you.  When you worked at the White House….

            Leo sighed and tipped his head back in his high backed chair.  Three times that evening, while still attempting to keep the country function and Congress in line with the administration's legislative plans, he had picked up the phone to call him or headed down the hall with a file in hand to get his take on things.  He didn't think that would happen as much concerning CJ.  She was more apt to come to him, but Josh had been his right hand—and left one some times too—in any political dealing the administration did.  Leo had watched the way Josh had progressed through the political gamut over the years and with quiet admiration seen the immeasurable stores of potential in him.  When the first campaign was ready to step up and actually become a contender, there was one guy he knew they needed.  Everyone thought he was only Brennan's attack dog or Hoyne's point guard.  But Leo saw something much greater in him.  He was the type of political navigator who could strategically plot through the rough seas that few others dared to sail.  Josh had had a knack for political maneuvering that was nothing short of a gift.  He was smart and daring and he understood risk.  And he was honorable and loyal—two things in short supply inside the Beltway.

            "And now he's gone," Bartlet said from the doorway to the Oval Office as he spied the look on his friend's face.  

            "Mr. President," Leo said belatedly as he stood to greet the man.  "What was that?"

            "Reading your mind, I think," Bartlet replied, waving him down and taking a seat.  "How are you doing?"

            "I'm fine," Leo replied.

            "Right," Bartlet said.  "I'll have you know that I don't believe that and the reason I don't is that I'm not fine and I'm doing better than you are."

            "Sir?"

            "When is the official declaration going to be made?"

            "Randall said in normal circumstances, the family needs to go to court after a sufficient period of time—four years—and have a declaration made," Leo replied.  "No real way around that, but for all intents and purposes it's been done.  They'll publish and official list of those presumed lost on Monday."

"Charlie said the Memorial Services were postpone from Saturday to Wednesday?" Bartlet asked.

"Anna Lyman asked that Josh's be on a Saturday," Leo recalled.  

"The Sabbath, I completely forgot," Bartlet sighed.  

"And Yom Kippur," Leo added.  He too had forgotten until Toby pointed it out.  "Sam will be grateful for the extra time.  He'll have a hard time with this one."

"Toby, too," Bartlet replied.  "Will you be speaking?"

"I don't think so," Leo said.  "I honestly wouldn't have much to say."

"No?" Bartlet asked.  "I should think you'd have quite a lot.  These people were like family, Leo.  I think we owe it to them to…"

"I wouldn't know where to begin or where to end, sir," Leo confessed.  

"Have you spoken with Donna?"

"No," Leo shook his head.  "Mallory said she's planning on resigning next week and moving to Florida to be with Anna.  I know why she wants to do it, but it's the last thing Josh would want her to do."

"Maybe you should tell her," Bartelt offered.

"I don't think she wants to hear it and I don't think she wants to hear it from me," Leo shook his head.  "Mr. President, I sent him away.  I didn't create the storm and I didn't cause the flood, but I sent him away.  I think she blames me."

"I'm not the one that matters, but I don't think that's true," Bartlet intoned.  "Do you?"

_*****************_

_Lyman House_

_Thursday, __8 a.m.___

Donna sat on the couch wearing a combination of her clothing and those purloined from Josh's dresser.  She loved wearing his sweatshirts as much as he disliked her wearing them.  The look on his face was half the reason for taking them.  She looked down at the coffee table.  There were notes on it—scattered amongst empty tissue boxes—where she and Anna Lyman had made some decisions about a service to be held the following week.  It was an exhausting process, laying the dead to rest.  Donna didn't recall arrangements for her father draining her so much.  She shook her head.  _I became a half-orphan, a wife and a widow all in less than a year.  _With a great sigh,Donna grabbed the stuffed animal sitting on the coffee table near the notes and discarded boxes hugged the furry creature.  

   "I can't believe you still had this," Donna said as she held back a yawn, looking at the floppy-eared animal.  "Josh said he didn't have this anymore."

   "He didn't," Anna said sipping her tea.  No matter how much tea she drank and no matter how hot it was, nothing seemed to stop her shivering.  There was coldness in her chest that she knew not even scalding oil could warm.  "Noah had it."

   "His father kept his elephant?" Donna asked the relented a brief and thin grin.  

   "Fwancis is not an elephant," Anna corrected her quietly.

   "I'm sorry?" Donna responded and looked at the thing again.  It took several moments before she realized the mistake.  "Sorry, I mean his _lellaplant_."

   "I'm sorry, dear," Anna sighed, patting her hand in comfort.  "Old habit.  It was a family joke.  Most of Joshua's elocution problems or outright malapropisms were."

   "Josh?" Donna asked with interest.  "Speech problems?  I don't understand."

   "There were many instances when we didn't either," Anna recalled fondly.  "Noah was always so concerned that Joshua's inability to speak properly would hold him back.  I was never that worried.  Embarrassed sometimes, yes, but never worried.  He always seemed to be talking or thinking too fast to realize or understand what he had just said, or not said.  Of course, this was when he was just learning to speak.  He was fine by the time he went to school."

   "You sent him to school early," Donna observed.  "I mean, he was younger than most of his classmates."

   "I needed a break from him," Anna confessed, both proud and ashamed at the same time. 

   She knew this drill all too well.  You speak of the one you've recently lost, filling the void, and letting the hurt slowly subside until you didn't wake up crying in your sleep each night—that step was still a long way away, she knew, but this reminiscing part was a step toward that end.  She was concerned that Donna was not doing much of this but reasoned her daughter-in-law was likely gaining comfort from the stories she told; adding the last of any memories she would ever hold of her husband.  Anna desperately wanted to know what the last few weeks of his life had been like.  She wanted to hear that he was happy and that finally everything in his world had been stable and comforting.  However, any time she tried to raise the subject Donna asked another question about Josh's childhood.  

   "He was a lot to handle—the constant questions, the constant motion, the constant everything except silence," Anna said.  "I wanted… No, I needed some quiet in my house again.  I was giving piano lessons each week day and Between my students and my own children, I didn't feel I had a moment of peace in my day.  Joanie was always around with a gaggle of friends and when you have a pack of young girls under your roof giggling and shrieking at who knows what and a little boy who…. Well, there's a term in vogue in recent years: high maintenance and that was my Joshua to a T.  I needed a break to sustain my sanity.  So when the school year started, I enrolled him.  He was certainly smart enough and I think it did him good to have the challenge.  Idle time seemed to set his mind to plots and ploys that caused him to be grounded quite often.   He was constantly harassing his sister or getting into something in his father's office or…  Oh, as that summer drew to an end, it was him or me.  So I signed him up, but I was so afraid on his first day, though."

   "Leaving him there or were you worried he'd take over the school?" Donna asked.

   "A little of both," Anna chuckled and grimaced with pain at the memory.  "Mostly I couldn't believe how small he was compared to the other boys.  I can still see him, my little boy, wearing his baseball hat and backpack, staring back at me with this scared, little face that just about cried 'why are you leaving me here?'  Oh, it broke my heart to walk away from him.  I looked over my shoulder and saw him staring back at me like that and I started to cry.  I went out to the car and I sat in the parking lot and cried for 10 minutes then I drove home quickly, sure the school would be calling me to come get him at any moment."

   "Did they?"

   "No," she said proudly but with a shade of sadness.  "I went to his class to pick him up at the end of the school day ready to see the tears.  And what did I get instead?  The happiest child I'd ever met.  He was energized and almost shaking he was so excited about telling me everything he had done that day and everything he was going to do the next day.  He couldn't stop telling me all about his two new best friends Pete and Michael and how they liked baseball and they were all going to play for a real team some day.  All the way out to the car, he kept telling me how much he loved school and how he was one of the smartest because he could already write his name.  I think that broke my heart just as much.  My baby was growing up and didn't need me as much as I needed him that day."

   "He bragged about his skills even at that age?" Donna observed and sniffed.  "He must have been obnoxious when he got his SAT scores in the mail."

   "Three words haunted me in my sleep that week," Anna groaned.  "Seven.  Sixty.  Verbal.  I didn't hear the 780 math quite as much, but I think he was making a point that his little verbal gaffs of childhood were now to be retired into family lore and no longer be discussed."

   "You said that before," Donna recalled.  "What exactly did he say?  I mean, Josh is…  I don't recall him being inarticulate.  There were time when he was better off not saying anything, but communication was never something I would say was his weak point."

   "Not as he grew up, no," Anna said.  "But there were so many minor—adorable as well—slips of the tongue.  They were little things like calling his elephant a lellaplant.  Joanie gave him such a hard time about that.  She was so good with words so early.  We noticed the difference between her and Joshua quickly.  I guess we expected that he would speak as well and as clearly as she did at a young age.  It didn't quite work that way.  I suppose it should have been a sign.  Everything always seemed to be a little more difficult for Joshua than it had been for his sister.  She began speaking before she was a year-old.  By the time he turned one, the only thing Josh did regularly with his mouth was bite people."

   "Bite?"

   "Oh yes," Anna nodded.  "Joanie had been a more docile baby.  Maybe girls just are.  Joshua was aggressive, restless really; we went through a long and painful biting phase before he learned to use words.  He didn't start speaking until he was 14 or 15 months.  Only the words didn't quite come out the way they should.  They would be words—sometimes—but not always the correct word.  As he gained more words, the instances of misusing them grew as well.  It tickled my father so much to hear Joshua and his malapropisms, but not everyone in the family shared that feeling.  Noah never knew what Joshua would say and it worried him to no end."

   "Leo has the same trouble during staff meetings," Donna said with a saddened chuckle then fell silent as she realized that problem was now solved.

   "I can only imagine," Anna replied, shaking her head. "I sided with my father on this one.  I thought his little word snafus were endearing.  Of course, you couldn't correct him.  You'd tell him the correct word and he'd look back at you so confidently and say 'that's what I said.'  Let's see.  What were some of them?  Oh, yes.  He used to call Ghaphilta fish, guilty fish; Passover was called turn over.  Connecticut wasn't one word but two that sounded something like cannon guts.  And, of course, elephants were lellaplants.  And I don't care what he told you.  He loved Fwancis and dragged it with him everywhere.  Finding that little creature again was like seeing a dear old friend."

   "Why did his father keep it?" Donna asked.   

   "He didn't exactly, I suppose," Anna said.  "I'm not certain, but Joshua probably left it at Noah's office one day and either forgot about it or never asked for it back.  Noah probably found it jammed into a drawer or something at his office so he put it in a box, meaning to bring it home, but likely forgot.  So it stayed at his office in the box until…. until all his boxes came home.  Most of those boxes went into the attic at the house in Connecticut still sealed with the packing tape.  They were moved in the same condition to Florida.  I started going through them a while ago—cleaning out junk.  Fwancis was in one of the last ones I opened about a month ago.  I thought it was empty it was so light.  I found some pictures and Fwancis just sitting there waiting to greet me.  I was considering sending it to Joshua for Chanukah… for his box."

   Donna nodded.  She knew about Josh's box.  It was now actually three boxes and sat on the floor of the closet in his office.  Donna glanced down the hall toward that room.  The door was closed.  She hadn't opened it since Sam had delivered the news.  She couldn't go in there.  The one good thing about this house at the moment, she felt, was that there was so little of Josh in it.  He had been there so rarely since they moved in, but his office was the exception.  She could get through the moments—and that's all she was doing, moving moment to moment—so long as nothing strongly reminded her of Josh.  She was worried she wouldn't ever be able to go into the room at the end of the hall, and she was practically certain she could never go back to the White House again.  He wouldn't be there, but his ghost would be.  Donna didn't like ghosts.

   "It's kind of funny—Josh having an elephant," Donna said looking curiously at the goofy face, worn and stained with a purplish color in some spots.  "He didn't live that down for a long while after people saw the home movie."

   "Really?" Anna smiled.  "He only complained to me about it for a few months."

   "CJ…," Donna started then paused for a moment, shaking the thoughts of CJ being gone from her head.  "She started leaving GOP buttons on his desk and sticking their bumper stickers into his briefing books.  He blamed Toby for a week or so.  Then he thought it was my fault.  I'm not sure when he figured it out that it was CJ.  I don't know what he did in retaliation, but they called a truce.   I think they were so serious about it that she had him write it down—like a contract."

   Anna nodded and looked at the clock.  The hours were slipping away.  She didn't recall time moving this fast the last time.  When Joanie died, the minutes were so long and agonizing.  Not that there wasn't agony this time, but time was speeding along.  She found it incomprehensible that he had been taken from her so long ago; that she had known for so many hours.  It was nearly as unbelievable as the knowledge that he had left her and she hadn't somehow known the precise moment when it happened.  Odder still was that it was not hard to accept that he was gone.  Some part of her had feared this day most of his life—that he would be taken from her.  

   "Anna?"  Donna asked, moving closer to the woman as the downcast look appeared on her face.  

   "I should be ashamed," she replied shakily.  

   "No," Donna said emphatically.  

   "Yes," the woman said.  "I'm mad at him, Donna.  I'm so God-awful mad at him when I should be mad at myself.  I want to blame him for this because I told him.  I told him so many times, but he never listened.  I could never get through to him.  He was so independent.  I couldn't tell him anything.  I always wondered if it was because I left him first.  I wasn't there when he needed me so he took it upon himself to not need me."

   "What?" Donna asked, perplexed, as she took the woman's hand.  "He loved you so much, Anna."

   "I don't doubt that," she sniffled.  "But he didn't need me, and he didn't understand my fears.  Why should he?  I left him and when I came back he was not the boy I knew."

   "I don't understand."

   Anna took a deep breath and grabbed a tissue from the newest box on the coffee table to dab her eyes.  There were many kinds of pain in her heart right now and they were all the more sharp for her near perfect memory of all the causes.

   "After we buried Joanie, I was beside myself with grief," she confessed.  "I didn't know what to do.  I couldn't crawl out of my pain.  I blamed myself for what happened, and I couldn't see past it.  I couldn't stop crying.  I didn't think it was good for Joshua to see me like that; he was so confused, so quiet, about what was going on.  The only person who could get him to speak more than simple yes or no answers was his grandfather.  He started teaching Joshua German at that time—for all the wrong reasons—but at least Joshua would speak with him.  I could barely look at my baby without bursting into tears so I thought it best if I went away for a while.  It was selfish, I know, but I thought I should rest and pull myself together.  My sister had a house in the Hamptons and I went there.  Noah quickly made arrangements to move into the new house and for his father stayed at with him and Joshua—so that someone would be there for him whenever Noah was working."

   "He never told me that," Donna said.  "He didn't really talk about that much."

   "I know," Anna said in a more controlled but still-devastated tone.  "I was only gone for 10 days, but it was 10 days longer than I should have.  I missed Joshua and Noah so much.  I called every day, but Joshua wouldn't come to the phone.  They always said he outside or not home when I called.  I knew they were lying.  They were trying to protect me from the truth: Joshua wasn't speaking to me—that's what he was doing; he was refusing to speak to me.  So I came home.  I decided my grief was no more important than theirs, and they needed me as much as I needed them.  I was shocked by what I found when I came home.  I mean, I had only been gone for a few days, but my baby was gone entirely."

   "He ran away from home?"

   "In a way," Anna said sadly.  "He was there when I arrived.  I expected he would come running to me.  I know I wanted to hug him and never let go.  But he stood in kitchen, perhaps 10 feet from me at first and gave me this appraising look that was too old, too mature and too knowledgeable to come from my little boy."

   "He didn't want to see you?" Donna asked.  "Oh, Anna, I don't believe that.  He was just confused.  He loved you.  I don't think he ever didn't love you."

   "Thank you," she said gratefully.  "But he was so angry with me; I don't think he understood why he felt that way—there was so much chaos in his world at that time and he was far too young to cope with it alone, but he did it all the same.  No, he gave me this chilly look for several very long moments until his grandfather said something to him in German.  Joshua looked back at him and answered then slowly came to me.  That night, before he went to bed, he nearly reduced me to tears when he asked if I was going to be there in the morning of if I was going to leave him again.  It tore what was left of my heart right out of me.  I think when I left is when he started blaming himself for Joanie's death.  It wasn't his fault, but because I left something in him said it must be and that was why I left.  I was selfish, and he's punished himself ever since.  That's the moment when I started to lose him.  The child I came home to wasn't the little boy I left behind.  It wasn't just that he knew about the awful things that can happen to you, but something in him changed so drastically that I never saw my little boy again; I lost my Joshua.  From that moment on, I lived with Josh—the new boy—who only seemed to speak to his father when he was troubled; who kept everything from me unless it was perfectly good news; and who never seemed to smile or laugh the way my Joshua had.  Nearly overnight, that happy, little boy who used to follow me around and ask questions about everything I was doing and would laugh in a way so infectious that I would have to leave the room and stop what I was doing to compose myself, was gone.  He was replaced by a skeptical child who paused frequently before speaking, and the laughter? Virtually gone.  He no longer smiled so much as he would smirk; there was no more innocent wondering aloud about nonsense—instead, there was the budding sarcasm and witty comments to control and deflect situations.  Never again was I asked to tend a scraped knee or make the fever go away.  He was always _fine_; he could take care of himself."

   Donna shuddered at the picture Anna painted.  She recognized it easily as the Josh she knew.  She had known for a long time that those aspects of her personality were defense mechanisms, but hearing about their birth was more painful that she imagined.  Despite all she knew about him, Donna had always perceived Josh to be a happy man.  It was chilling to confront the reality that the darkness of his past was something he carried with him every day and that he had been able to become such a caring man made her own heart ache all the more for him.

   "He was growing up," Donna offered after a few moments of silence, though she knew it would do no good.  "For what it's worth, I wouldn't have changed him for the world."

   "I would," Anna said guiltily.  "Not much of him, but I'd have taken away that pain.  I think I could have done some of that if I had just stayed with him.  When he needed me most, I wasn't there.  I abandoned him.  Noah always disagreed with me, but I knew.  I was his mother and I knew.  I could feel it.  My child was in pain and nothing could make it go away.  It became a part of who he was, and I believe he was a wonderful, compassionate, brilliant man, but he only had the happiness he deserved for such a short time.  At least you gave some of that back to him, Donna."

   "Me?"

   "I could see it in his face when I watched your wedding," she wept.  "I could hear it in his voice whenever he spoke about you.  He found happiness again with you.  I'm so glad that he did.  I had great hope for you both.  I had dreams—grandchildren."

  Donna swallowed hard and looked at her hands.  The sting of tears welled up in her eyes again and the choking pain rose in her throat.  

   "It wasn't meant to be," she said softly.

*****************

_CJ Cregg's Office_

_Thursday, __9:30 a.m.___

   "I've done this before—better than what I have here—and I never made myself cry," Toby confessed, looking with misty eyes at the notes in his notebook.  "I guess that's because I didn't cry because of what I wrote."

   He looked up his companion, floating leisurely in the fishbowl.  He stared at Gail and satisfied himself that she thought him no less of a man for his moment of weakness several minutes ago.  He had cried initially in his office, after receiving the news from Leo.  He recalled finding himself back in his office alone and waiting for Sam to answer the summons on his pager.  That was more than 24 hours ago, and Toby was certain he would cry again, but upon entering CJ's office for the first time and sitting there alone with Gail, the tears had started again as he looked over his notes.  Now, he wasn't ruling out the possibility that it could happen again at anytime.  The tears that initially came were not directly from the news—though surely that was the root of the cause.  No, it was the harsh and sudden obligation he felt to make the notes in his notebook—the ones that would become the backbone to the phrases he knew he must write, that only he could write, in tribute to those lost—that brought the tears.  As the hours had passed, he found his eyes dried and he was making more notes—so many that he was on his second notebook.  Jotting down a phrase here and an idea there as he moved through the day.  By the next morning, an unspoken division of duties had formed between him and Sam.  Toby would craft the President's words on behalf of CJ; Sam would see to Josh's tribute.  It seemed most appropriate.  Both would do the revisions to each other's work and let the President be the final word on what each piece needed.  After all, he would be the ones speaking them.  

   Still, Toby felt he should be writing something on his own behalf for her, for both of them.  He had spent time earlier in Josh's office, searching for some inspiration to find his own words, but found none.  It was too quiet—too still—in that office.  There had been nothing quiet or still about Josh.  Other than the photos and diplomas on the walls, Josh was not in that room.  Josh was an entity, a force; something that filled the air; an electricity that could spur you on when you were drained, warm you when there was a chill or sting you without warning if you weren't careful.  He had needed operating instructions before handling.  Toby found none of that in the darkened office.

   CJ was different.  Though she was equally missing in the halls, a sense of her serene spirit, the one most often felt late in the day when she was still standing after the battle and came to this space, was apparent here.  It was the mood, the atmosphere of the room.  It was orderly and controlled despite the chaos around it.  Even the fish in the glass bowl on the corner of her desk seemed to swim with a disciplined precision.  Toby gazed thoughtfully at the creature, who stared back just as intently at him.  Gail was looking kind of pale and flakey, he thought.  Carol insisted that was how the fish was supposed to look, but Toby wasn't sure.  The creature looked crusty.  Fish weren't supposed to look crusty in his opinion.

   "You're too small to be a fish stick," he stated.  "I'm not sure you're supposed to look breaded."

   "Hey," said the forcefully casual voice of Danny Concannon.  "Carol said you were in here.  Can I…?"

   "Yeah," Toby answered from behind CJ's desk as he quickly shook his head and stood.  He suddenly felt as though he was intruding.  "I just…  I needed a pen and…  She has pens.  In here."

   "Yeah," Danny nodded quickly.  His voice was strained and his eyes red from fighting back tears for the last day.  "I just wanted to offer…  I know it's not my place, but if you wanted any help on the thing…"

   "The memorial piece?"

   "Yeah, the eulogy," Danny said taking a sharp breath.  "I'd be glad to… you know."

   "Thanks," Toby politely declined.  "Your piece today was thorough."

   Danny nodded.  He had thrown himself into the story, needing to know as much as possible what authorities believed happened in that valley four days earlier.  He had to know; some part of him was still clawing for more answers than the few sketchy reports he was able to gather.  He felt an even greater need, a nearly consuming urge, to get every detail right.  It wasn't enough to have the bare facts this time.  He wanted, he needed, to know what caused this and what those final moments were likely like—though he noticed that none of that information had made its way into the story he filed.  

   "Sam's working on something for Josh?" Danny asked though he knew it to be the answer.  He had just been in Sam's office, watching the man delete every other sentence he wrote.  "It's not easy."

   "To be Sam?" Toby remarked.  "No, I don't' suspect it is."

   "Have there been any decisions about…."

   "We aren't making personnel decisions yet," Toby said.  "When this is official, the President and staff will observe a respectful period of mourning.  It would be in appropriate to…"

   "No," Danny cut him off.  "I didn't mean about the job.  I meant about when any services will be held.  They just had a prayer offered up before the session started today on the Hill.  Rabbi Schulman and a Reverend Calloway spoke.  I guess the Senate Chaplain wasn't…"

   "He hated Josh," Toby remarked.  "It's not a secret, but that's off the record."

   "So he didn't want to…"

   "No," Toby corrected him.  "I mean, yes, he wanted to.  He offered to do the remarks, but Congressman Rivera thought it would be in bad taste if he was the one speaking considering the man's opinion of Josh.  And that started a thing so…"

   "Josh wouldn't have cared," Danny said confidently.  

   "Yeah, I know," Toby said.  "I think Rivera knows that, too.  He and Josh were pretty tight.  I think he just…."

   "Now that Josh would appreciate," Danny smirked for a moment.  "Using his passing as a way to…  I just think he'd enjoy watching the politicking that went on, I guess."

   "Me, too," Toby agreed.  "Schulman is there to meet with the senate committee and when someone realized he was there, they diffused the situation by having him say a few impromptu words.  He's meeting with Josh's mother this afternoon; she apparently heard what he said and wants to thank him."

   "She's taking it hard?"

   "Harder than what?" Toby asked without venom.  "She's just lost her son.  For her sake, I hope they find the body and do it quickly."

   "Just for her sake?"

   "It's one thing for him to die, but to not have anything to… ," Toby paused as the wrenching tightness strained on his throat.  "She wants to lay him to rest beside his father and his sister.  I think not being able to do that will be as hard on her as the loss."

   "You don't sound like you agree," Danny remarked pensively.  "To have it all finalized might make dealing with it easier.  At least, that's what the latest theory is.  I would like to have…  to have….  seen her again.  It just doesn't seem real otherwise."

   "I could live the rest of my life not knowing for sure," Toby admitted.  "It's funny.  I'm not often accused of being an imaginative or frivolous guy, but do you know what I keep thinking?  I keep thinking, and this is crazy I know, but I keep thinking that…"

   "A Gilligan's Island theory?" Danny ventured.  Toby looked up startled; he hadn't spoken his insane desire aloud.  "I'm not reading your mind.  I just think that's natural.  I also know that Sam was thinking the same thing.  He told me so.  And he told me he told you and that you didn't scold him.  He thought you were just feeling sorry for him, but I know you, Toby.  I sort of wondered if maybe you were on the bandwagon.  I suppose there is some comfort in the delusion that they're some place, lost in the hills or the valleys, making their way to civilization slowly or maybe they just stay where they are but they're safe and through some fluke no one ever knows but at least they're alive."

   "I don't find it comforting to realize that I seek solace in a Sherwood Schwartz plot," Toby said.  

   "Find comfort in the fact that you're willing to make any leap of faith to have your friends back," Danny said.  "It's a sign of the love you had for them.  And that's a good thing.  It's also a natural reaction—not the whole Gilligan's Island thing though CJ could have made an interesting Ginger…"

   "I was always partial to Mary Anne," Toby said.  

   "Everyone is, but I was a Ginger man," Danny said wistfully.  "Red hair, I guess."

   "Freak."

   "You're the one who's hoping their castaways," Danny pointed out.  "And that's what I was saying.  It's natural to want that.  It's the bargaining phase that follows the denial.  It never works, but you have to do it.  No one really knows why, I don't care what the experts say."

   "Bargaining?"

   "This morning I found myself staring in the mirror and talking to a God I'm not sure I believe in most days," Danny offered.  As he spoke he lifted Gail's bowl off the desk and held it firmly in his hands.  They were steady though his voice wasn't.  "I'd give it all up—maybe even the chance of talking to her ever again—if he would just turn back the clock.  Make it not happen.  But the thing is, I'm a reporter and there's this rule.  If you write it down, it happened.  I wrote the story.  So I don't get that deal with God."

   "Someone asked me who I'll miss more," Toby said painfully as his felt his breath come shallow.  "Can you believe that?  Which one?  As if, somehow, there was a way to make that kind of call.   I'll miss them both more than I can say.  You know the hardest part?  Because I am the one writing her piece, I can't think about Josh; I won't let myself for very long because there's no room in here."  He tapped his temple then placed a hand on his heart.  "And there's too much pain in here.  It's too much to swallow to take them both at once, so she's all I can think about and when I try to put it in words all I can come up with is that I will miss her for everything that she was.  I will miss her for the way she batted you guys around in the briefing room and for the way she limped out of there beaten to a pulp a few times.  I'll miss her for the way she would get indignant when she thought she was being treated like she wasn't being treated like one of the guys, as if that was somehow an insult.  I'll miss that just as much as the way she'd get so angry when we did treat her like one of the guys, as if bringing her down to our level was even possible.  I'll miss…. I'll miss her."

   "She loved this job," Danny said, looking around the room and unable to think past the number of times she had cornered him and engaged him in a lip lock.  "She made it hers."

   "Big shoes to fill," Toby remarked then laughed at the pun.  "I'd better not put that in the thing."

   "Yeah," Danny said then started for the door still holding the bowl.  

   "Danny?" Toby asked.  "The fish?"

   "I have custody now," he said simply then walked back to the press room.

*****************

_Sam Seaborn's Office_

_Friday, __3:37 pm___

   Sam stared at the computer screen.  There were now no words on the page.  He had had some words.  Quite a few—for a while.  But they weren't right.  None of them were.  He couldn't concentrate.  There were other things he should be doing.  Like work.  There was a country to administer.  He had duties that were a part of that and the team was a player or two short made for more work.  Except Sam felt an obligation.  He wanted to get these words, the right words, on this page.  He wanted to write eloquent phrases that would lift the pain from his soul and bring comfort to others.  But every time he started typing his fingers would halt, he brain would freeze and he would be left with one sentence:

_   He's dead._

   Sam had known Josh Lyman since the beginning of his own political career.  Sam had arrived in DC to find the place was not what he had presumed and there were not many friends to be had, but Josh had been one of those original few and of them he was the only one from the start Sam would still have trusted with his own life.  It is said that in politics you can could your true friends on one hand and still have fingers left over; Josh had always been one of those people for Sam.  Suddenly, here was room in his hand but no one could take that place.

   _CJ once called him the political equivalent of James Bond with a backpack, _he recalled, his eyes filling with tears yet again; he was glad he wasn't wearing contacts today._  CJ. Oh Claudia Jean…  How do you replace people like that_, Sam wondered and knew the answer.  It was impossible.  No person, no friend, is ever truly replaceable and for those fortunate enough to have known extraordinary people and been so lucky as to have called them friends… the loss was too deep and sharp for words.  

   Sam took some solace in the knowledge, secret though it was, that at least one of his friends was not entirely lost.  There was a baby on the way.  Despite Donna's bizarre behavior, Sam was certain that would be a good thing for people to know.  Not that he was planning on telling anyone, but still.  Josh might be gone, but some part of him remained.  Some part of him survived.  The Lazarus Factor—Sam had been sure when he first heard the terrible news that somehow Josh would come out of this, by some miracle he would survive.  Sam knew he had been correct; so maybe Josh himself wouldn't rise from the devastation, but his child would be borne and his legacy could be passed on to a new generation.   

   Sam meant what he told Donna.  He would help—financially even if she needed it.  He was thinking of possible means to set up a college fund, because this child would go to college.  His (or her) father was an Ivy League graduate two times over; his child would be afforded those same chances—even if Sam went into the tutoring business to make sure the SAT scores and the essays were the best they could possibly be.  

   Not that Sam was worried; he put a lot of stock in genetics and between the parents, this child would be blessed and certain gifted—particularly in the realm of intellect.  Donna existed in a realm of innocent brilliance that only someone like Josh could have spotted so quickly upon meeting her.  That was one of Josh's many gifts, Sam felt making more notes on his computer that he hoped would lead to eloquent words.  There were so many things Sam wanted to say about his friend but it was the simple and little things about him that Sam kept dwelling upon.  What was astounding to Sam now, in retrospect, was Josh's ability to see into a person and size them up so quickly.  It hurt him as often as it helped him politically, but it was a talent Sam devoutly wished he himself had.  

   He could admit it now.  He had been slightly envious of Josh; his professional life and credits were certainly worthy of envy.  He had accomplished much in his time in Washington; there were few men in this town, including those twice his age, who could list accomplishments the like and level of Joshua Lyman.  Though Sam felt he himself was an intelligent and skilled politician, Josh's mind had been a different playing field entirely.  In some instances, the most elementary concepts would be lost upon him and yet the there remained the still unexplained phenomena of the House vote to decide the presidential election, which was Josh's brainchild.  He worked those back rooms.  He cajoled and twisted arms and plotted the strategy to snare the votes that gave the election to the rightful winner.  Constitutional scholars would be examining those actions for a century and might still never answer precisely how it happened.  But Sam knew in two small words: Josh Lyman.  

   The X-factor that bewildered so many was simply the brain of a guy from Connecticut who would be the first to admit he was no genius; a mind that was more stable than many knew and still more fragile than others suspected.  The labyrinth thoughts and knowledge in that mind had made him who he was.  Josh was smart; more than smart, he was intelligent and clever—which as Sam knew were not the same things.  Josh could see patterns and connections between things that eluded so many others.  And it wasn't just that he could see those connections, but it was the speed and clarity with which he saw them that was so astounding.  Chaos did not seem to baffle him.  It practically invigorated him.

   Beyond that was the heart of the man so few of the public knew even existed.  But those who knew him best, those who truly cared for him and those who respected him (certainly not the same crowd in each camp), knew how much the man could care.  His capacity for compassion and the fire of his passion for those things, those people, those ideas he held so dear was immeasurable.  There was no fitting tribute for that

   Or was there?  Donna held the answer to that, he believed with this new life on the way.

   Sam felt certain that some of what had made Josh the Josh he and others had liked and love had to be genetic; some configuration of synaptic pathways and chemical balances that allowed the exercise of the mind to achieve those results and for the heart to care in that way.  With Donna being no slouch upstairs or matters of the heart either, the baby she was carrying must be destined for greatness or at least something beyond mediocrity, Sam felt.  Which made Donna's behavior baffled him.  _She should be finding solace and comfort in her good news_, he thought.  _It must be the shock_, he kept telling himself.  Except that he thought it might be more than that.  Josh and Donna's relationship hit a bad patch at the end of the summer, he recalled.  But that seemed to be fixed in recent weeks.  And certainly some part of their relationship had remained intact for a baby to exist.

   _Maybe she's just afraid_, Sam reasoned.  _She's_ _afraid that something bad will happen and she won't even have this last part of Josh_.  

   That made sense to him.  While no expert on the finer and more utilitarian aspects of the female reproductive cycle, Sam was certain that the stress and strain Donna was under could not be good for her baby.  He turned to his computer and without hesitation began prepping himself on the affects of stress on pregnancy and what could be done to mitigate undesirable results.  This was something he could do for her; this was how he could help her.  He would find out what she needed so that she didn't need to ask.  He would be there for her—like a fairy godmother only less feminine.  He was nearly an hour into his research when his phone rang.

   "Hey, Sam," Mallory's voice carried over the line in a sigh.  "How are you?"

   "I'm researching," he said smartly.  The gloom had lifted while he educated himself on the topic at hand.  There was much about the reproductive cycle that had never been explained to him—in part he was grateful for that and knew that he now would never look any woman (including his mother) the same again.

   "What?"

   "Um, nothing," he said rather than try to form a plausible lie.  He was too exhausted to try.

   "That kind of day," she observed.   "I understand."

   "What can I do for you?" Sam asked.  He had seen Mallory several times in the last 36 hours.  She had given her condolences to Donna the previous evening and later done the same to Josh's mother when Toby brought her to the office were brought to see the President.  She had informed Sam of Donna's relocation intentions, but Sam was unconcerned.  This was just grief talking, he believed.  He was going to have a private chat with Donna when the time was more appropriate.

   "I was wondering what you thought about dinner tonight," Mallory offered.  

   "I'm working on this thing," Sam said regretfully.  "If you want, you can maybe stop by here and we could…"

   "No," Mallory interrupted.  "I didn't mean with you.  I mean…  Well, yes, with you, but….  I wanted to do something for Donna and Josh's mother.  I thought dinner might be nice.  I don't mean going out.  I just thought I'd bring them some food and maybe we could all just have dinner together; give them some other voices in that house besides just theirs.  I know they have each other, but I don't think they should be alone right now.  I don't want to intrude so I was hoping…."

   "It's okay," Sam said soothingly as he heard her sniffle.  "I understand.  I've been to the house twice today and each time my glasses were foggy before I got to the door."

   "Sure they're not just smudged?" she countered, recomposing herself.  "I'll make lasagna.  It's good."

   "Sit by the phone," Sam assured her.  "I'll call you back in a few minutes." 

Up next: Chapter 15:


	15. Confessions

**Title:  Heaven and Hell:** **_Confessions_**

**Authors**: Enigmatic Ellie and Westwinger247

**Webpage**: 

**Email:** e_allen@hotmail.com    or   minorleeg@yahoo.com

**Notes:**  _Yes, finally.  It's here._.

_******************_

_The White House_

_Saturday, __11:23 a.m._

The office was quieter than normal, Charlie noted. The building was still full but everyone seemed to be running on silent—except Ed who had broken down in virtually uncontrollable sobbing in the Roosevelt Room after finding a note from CJ wishing him a happy birthday tucked into his working folder that morning.  Carol confessed to putting it there earlier in the week before the news arrived.  CJ had wanted to make it a point of harassing Ed on the day as repayment for his making a scene in the Mess on her birthday the previous year.  After his break down, the meeting had continued but the "let's get through it" atmosphere seemed thinner than ever.  

   Everyone else's collective-quiet pulled and eerie and somber curtain over the building that hushed atmosphere even though the halls were busy. Everyone was speaking in whispered tones they much the way people do in a house when there is a funeral. And so there would be.  Two, in fact.  

   Toby and Sam were said to be putting their weekend plans on hold to write fitting eulogies for their fallen colleagues as they awaited the families' plans for memorial services.  There were delicate questions of venue being discussed; CJ's brother thought it fitting that a service be held in Washington and did not object to a service in any church within the District but would prefer that the church be Catholic rather than non-denominational, which excluded National Cathedral.  The sheer volume of mourners expected, however, made finding an appropriate location difficult on such short notice.  And though no word had been heard from the Lyman family on their preferences, it was understood that no church would be used and even questions of a Temple would be in question.  Josh may have been raised Jewish but several individuals who had spoken with his wife and mother stated that even though his mother would prefer a service in such a place, she understood her son did not partake in religion and would not have asked for any such gathering.  Toby quipped that the only fitting place large enough would be on the steps of Capitol Hill; however, that was not going to be an option for a variety of security and efficiency reasons.  Charlie had overheard Toby that he found it strikingly appropriate that Josh was as difficult on the Hill in his passing has he had been in his life.  The comment elicited a host of uncontrollable smirks for several moments only to be followed by an uncomfortable silence.  It was the same cold and disbelieving silence that soured the air of the building down nearly every corridor since the news arrived on Wednesday.

   Charlie had taken a walk through the west wing on his entry into the building that morning.  He noted CJ's door was open and there was movement in her office as Henry, one of her deputyies assisted Carol with gaining the necessary files from her office so that he could continue their work.  Josh's office was another story.  All the doors were closed and locked—on Leo's orders.  Only Sam was permitted in the room and access to the computers and files there in.  Donna's desk, just outside Josh's closed office, was a sea of flowers brought in by staffers.  She had seen them briefly when she came to the office the previous day with Josh's mother to meet with the President.  Leo, too, was at that meeting, but did not stay long.  He was finding that he had forgotten how much Josh (and by extension Donna) did in the course of a normal day and was trying to get the most competent substitutes to cover those duties.  Despite the feeling that the world had stopped in these halls, the business of the nation did not pause and no one was going to let the White House sit down to cry for a spell before getting back to work.  There simply wasn't time.  And in that rush to push on, the spark that Charlie felt pulsed from this building seemed to wane.  It was in the silence that he felt it most.

   Charlie did not like it when this house got quiet.

He spent the morning keeping the President on task and cleaned up the folders on his desk.  He knew it was nearly the lunch hour as he glanced at the clock on the wall, but he didn't feel like eating.  He lifted the phone on his desk and sighed as he realized the instrument was dead.  Several direct strikes by lightning during the storms the previous evening and those earlier in the week were still wreaking havoc with the communications systems.  Technical support could be seen at most desks trying to work the bugs out of the computers as the sudden surges of power left the microchips playing Helter Skelter with data.  Allegedly e-mail was running properly though Charlie had his doubts.  He had nothing in his inbox and that was highly irregular.  He signed off his system and prepared to walk to the kitchen and place the order for the President's lunch and to seek out someone to see what was wrong with the phones when Leo entered the office. 

   The Chief of Staff was looking older and more tired than he had hour earlier—and he had looked nearly 10 years older even then. Twenty-four hours earlier the reports out of North Carolina confirmed that emergency crews had finished rescuing people from devastated towns and regions, but they were also finding more victims than previously estimated. Everyone was dumbfounded that the death toll was racking up as high as it was; contingency and emergency plans had failed across the board as communication ability was severed early by the storm.  Plans were already being made to prevent this type of breakdown in the future, but that was little consolation for those still waiting to have their loved ones names moved from the missing lists.

"How you doing, Charlie?" Leo asked tiredly.

   "Okay," he sighed.  "I forgot what it's like to have days like this.  Those long days when nothing really happens after…  I just forgot what these days can be like."

   "Yeah," Leo said quickly.

   "How are you?"

   "Fine," the older man shrugged as he lied, though not as convincingly as he hoped.  "Is he busy?"

   "Sam's in there with him right now," Charlie said, gesturing toward the door to the Oval.  

   "Still?" Leo remarked looking at his watch.

   "Yeah," Charlie sighed.  "Sam got here late so they're a little behind.  Late night for Sam, I guess."

   "Yeah, he and Mallory had dinner with Donna and Josh's mother last night," Leo replied, not much caring.  Charlie was right, he thought as he glanced at his watch yet again; this was one of the longest days he had spent in a long time. 

   "How are they?  Donna and Mrs. Lyman?" Charlie asked, then pondered aloud.  "I guess I should say both Mrs. Lyman's.  You know, it's funny.  I don't think I ever called Donna that before."

   "They're strong women," Leo said.  "They'd have to be to put up with Josh. That or crazy.  Probably both."

   The humor seemed flat and ill-placed though Leo felt it was both true and something Josh would have agreed with readily.  That prickly feeling in Leo's throat returned.  He had been fighting it back since Gov. Kyle called with the news and it had not subsided yet.  He had spoken to Donna face-to-face for a few moments the previous day, but he knew he would need to find the time to do more than offer a short phrase of condolences soon.  Though there had been no official discussions with him, Leo feared he would be asked to speak at a memorial service for his two fallen staffers.  Refusal was his first instinct.  It wasn't that he didn't care enough or respect either CJ or Josh enough nor that he wouldn't be honored to stand up and speak for them, but he was certain that his power of speech would fail him as the overwhelming feeling of loss kept creeping up on him just when he thought he could shoulder the burden.  They deserved better than that, Leo knew. 

   "CJ's father didn't understand," Charlie remarked.  "Toby told me that he was confused by… everything."

   "Her stepmother and her older brothers are taking care of things," Leo said.  "Maybe it's a blessing for him not to understand."

   "Yeah," Charlie said then paused.   "Leo, can I ask you something?"

   "What?"

   "I know this sounds weird, but I'm not sure how I should feel," Charlie said uncomfortably.  He couldn't find any tears, and he didn't think he was putting on strong face to keep the professional air of the office.  He literally could feel nothing about what was going on and was worried about that reaction.   "I know we're supposed to just keep going on like nothing happened, but...."

   "Yeah," Leo nodded quickly and stared at the carpet.  "But we've been here before, Charlie.  It takes time and time is something we don't have."

   Charlie nodded and looked at Debbie's desk and remembered the woman who used to work there then looked at the TV near the wall showing Toby starting the evening briefing.  He had stepped in to assist with some duties along with CJ's deputy since the news arrived.  The speechwriter was emotionless as he took questions and answered them in short order.  Most of the Press, stunned by the news, was not taking advantage of the shake up yet; some were trying to capitalize on the shell shocked state of some of those in the building but most were observing a certain amount of grace as White House communications started to transition into the new world of life without CJ Cregg.  Word was that several reporters had openly wept in the briefing room upon hearing the new of the Press Secretary's fate.  Charlie heard that Danny Concannon had left the building with her fish, Gail, and a tear stained-beard the previous evening.

   "I know, but somehow it always feels like it never happened before," Charlie said softly then looked toward the closed door to the Oval Office.  

   "It never does," Leo said curtly.

*****************

Oval Office

   "I can't say this," Bartlet said, placing the speech on the coffee table as he looked up at Sam sitting in the chair opposite him.

   "I'm struggling," Sam said and hung his head.  "I know it's not good enough."

   "I don't think anything could be," Bartlet assured him.  "Sam, I'm not saying this isn't a good speech; it's eloquent and fitting and personal and precisely what someone as close as you would say."

   "Sir?"

   "Sam, this is your goodbye to Josh," the President replied.  "This is your speech.  I can't read these words and I won't.  I spoke with Toby earlier and both he and Leo agree, I shouldn't speak at the services."

   "But Mr. President," Sam began to argue.

   "I'm going to speak with the staff," Bartlet replied.  "Margaret is arranging an informal and more private gathering for those who were part of their lives here.  We're going to hold it in the residence tomorrow evening.  I have some thoughts I've written out and I'll go with those.  It wouldn't be right to speak publically.  This is a time for the families."

   "We are their family," Sam said quickly.

   "I know," Bartlet consoled him.  "I informed Anna Lyman of our decision just before you came in and she agreed that it was best.  CJ's brothers told Toby that they wouldn't be offended either."

   "Then why did you have me bring you this text?" Sam asked.

   "I wanted you to know that it was good enough for me but it was written for you," Bartlet said in an elementary fashion.  "He'd be proud to hear what you've written, but I suspect he already knew most of it."

   Sam looked down at the words and wasn't sure whether he would ever speak them aloud.  They felt stale and cold in his mouth.  He wasn't ready to bury the dead but the time for goodbye's had arrived.  He knew the President was correct that it would be more proper if he did not participate in the services as anything other than a mourner.  It would create and even more zoo-like atmosphere around the proceedings than was necessary.  While it would give the families more privacy to grieve, Sam hoped the world at-large understood that these two lost souls were giants and did merit the public attention and notice that a eulogy by the President would bring, and it was only a magnanimous decision to not make a media spectacle of the gatherings which kept the President from publicly sharing his thoughts on CJ and Josh with the world.

   "He would have been honored if you did speak, sir," Sam said finally.  "They both would.  In fact, I think they'd both have preferred it be like than the other way around.  I mean….  If it was the other way around and they were…. I mean you…  I…  Sorry, sir."

   "It's all right," Bartlet assured him as he stood to conclude the meeting. "I believe there is a god and there is a heaven and if I'm right about those I'll make my way there eventually."

   "Well, if he got in, Josh is probably doing some polling for you right now," Sam said and relented a dry chuckle.  "Actually, he's probably doing that wherever he is."

*****************

_Oval Office outer area—_

  Charlie returned from his trip to the kitchen where he discovered their phones were now working as were all of those in the Communications bullpen.  This boded well for a smoother afternoon, he believed.  He re-entered his office area to find Leo still waiting beside Debbie Fidderer's desk.  He was looking dejectedly and skeptically at the folders in his hands.  From his expressions, Charlie deduced what he was reading.

    "That's the list?" Charlie asked as he took his seat again.

   Among Sam's duties in the last 48 hours was to draw up a list of candidates for Leo to replace his deputy while Toby compiled a list of those to suggest for CJ's job.  Charlie was certain neither enjoyed those tasks.  But, if possible, their distaste was only rivaled by Leo's, who had to be the one to make the final cut and bring the names to the President.  

   "Yeah," Leo sighed and leaned on Debbie's desk wearily.  

Charlie looked at the pain on the man's face, an expression that was as dark and bleak as any Charlie had ever seen.  Charlie decided to pursue the discussion no further.

   "I guess he's still finishing up with Sam," Charlie said. "They should be done soon.  Do you want me to….."

   "No," Leo shook his head.  He was in no hurry for this meeting.

   "They should be done soon," Charlie said again for lack of anything better to say.

"Yeah, you said that," Leo reminded him.  "It's the remarks for.... the whatever."

   He abandoned his statement as Charlie's phone rang.  Leo didn't much carrying about the President's address to the textile union at that moment. He didn't care about a lot of things at  that moment.  He had been awake for the better part of three and a half days and focusing on anything was difficult.  In his hands, he had a list of possible candidates to fill both Josh's and CJ's position.  He was bringing it to the President though hadn't looked at it closely himself yet.  He had no interest in doing so, but he knew it was a priority.  Still, he couldn't bring himself to make those decisions yet.  Leo sighed and rubbed his hand over his face as Charlie answered his call.

"Charlie Young," he answered tiredly then a surprised expression filled his features as his tone became excited and agitated. "What?  Who is… Oh my god!  Yeah, he's right here. Hold on.  Leo!" 

"Yeah," the Chief of Staff answered Charlie flatly without looking up as the younger man stabbed the speakerphone button.. 

"Remind me to read the fine print on my job description," Josh's voice carried over the line sounding tired and perturbed but very much alive. "I don't recall seeing the terms _'hazardous duty'_ anywhere."

"Josh?!"

"I think so," the Deputy Chief of Staff replied. "I gotta tell you, Leo, I'm starting to take this kind of treatment personally.  And why don't you people answer phones?  Again, I'm seeing the hazy lines of a conspiracy."

"Where the hell are you?"

"Did I get fired?"

   "Fired?" Leo echoed.  "What the hell are you talking about?"

   "No one returned my calls," Josh said sounding petulant.  "I even got hung up on—twice!  Then when I called back it's like technology just doesn't exist.  You think when you dial a phone another one will ring somewhere.  It's always been that way—my whole life, in fact.  But now…"

   "Where are you?" Leo cut in sternly.

   "Just passed the thing," Josh answered unhelpfully though as accurate as he could be at that time.  "Before that, I spent entirely too much time the lobby of Mercer Community Hospital which is in some God-forsaken--and by that I mean literally cast aside by some despotic deity who...."

"Thing? What thing? Are you all right?" Leo cut him off, figuring from the editorial he had truncated that his Deputy was as close to fine as one could expect.

"Physically, yes," Josh answered. "I've decided there may be some merit to those rumors that I must be certifiably insane."

"What about CJ?"

"She's probably loonier than I am when you get it all down on paper and actually compare the...," he began.

"Josh," Leo cut him off. "I meant, is CJ with you? How is she?"

"Oh yeah, I was getting to that," Josh said. "She's fine. She got a little banged up when the river came to eat us. They wrapped her up in bailing twine and modeling clay."

"And Steve Kyle?"

"Last time I saw him was two hours ago and he was looking for a news camera to tell the world why he thinks this storm was entirely his father's fault," Josh groaned. "A real gem of an offspring, Governor Kyle's got there, Leo. Makes you appreciate the governor's restraint in not killing the little bas-..."

"Whatever," Leo cut him of with relief. "What happened?"

"Okay, for the record, let me state that I hate water," Josh continued. "Clean water, dirty water, water from the sky, water from the ground. Deserts, Leo. That's what this world needs more of."

"I'll get right on that," Leo shook his head grinning tiredly and feeling lightheaded. "So long as you're both safe."

   "Well, that all depends on whether nature tries to kill us again," Josh said.  "I think it just wanted CJ and I was an innocent bystander.  Nature can't hate me personally, can it?"

"I might if you pull a stunt like this again," Leo growled.  "Why the hell didn't you call?"

   "I did," Josh said.  "The phone won't even ring when I dialed any of the phones in the bullpen or even tried Margaret's desk.  Finally, I got the switchboard and whoever answered didn't seem interested in speaking with me.  There's no way the call script they train those people on instructs them to…."

   "You called?"

   "Yes," Josh argued.  "I couldn't reach anyone so I finally got the switchboard.  We didn't know the numbers; it was a whole fiasco to just dial into Washington.  Anyway, I got the switchboard and I said who I was and that I needed to speak to you.  The persons who answered put me on hold then hung up.  I wasn't feeling a lot of interest or concern in our whereabouts at that time so we caught a flight to Dulles." 

   "Well, it's a relief to hear you voice," Charlie said, putting his hands on his head as the rushes subsided. 

"Thank you, Charlie," Josh said. "And don't take this the wrong way: I resent you because you sound dry."

"I could spill water on my shirt as a show of solidarity," Charlie offered gladly, a newfound energy filling his bones.

"It's the least you could do," Josh sighed. "Ron Butterfield was leaving as we entered and he had to sign us in; that's not what I'd call reassuring.  He said someone was reporting that we were... you know...."

"Yeah," Leo replied. 

   "Again, people seem a little too eager to have me not… _be_," Josh complained.  "I'm serious about taking this personally."

   "Like I care," Leo groaned.  "You should call your family."

"My mother used to swear that if your feet stayed wet long enough they'd become webbed like a duck's," Josh continued. "I always thought that was her way to scare me from playing in puddles. Now, I'm not so sure."

Leo offered a terse shake of his head and a grateful grin.  In that instant, the door to the Oval Office opened and the President and Sam exited looking exhausted with the results of their meeting.  

   "Leo," Bartlet greeted him glumly.  

   "Mr. President, Josh is…," Leo began quickly then turned toward the phone.  "Well, where the hell are you?"

   "I'm standing behind you," Josh said, suddenly appearing in the doorway still on the phone.  "I can probably hang up the phone, right?"

   He looked tired and battered.  There were abrasions on the side of his face and a greenish bruise on his left cheek.  Some type of splint was taped expertly to his left hand, but he was standing in the outer office looking less like a ghost and more like someone who had just weathered a filibuster rather than a deadly hurricane.

   "Josh!" Bartlet exclaimed, stunned by the resurrection.  The President stepped toward him and gripped his hand and forearm as he quickly said a silent prayer of thanks to the God whose rationale he had been questioning—yet again.  "I don't believe this.  How?  We were….  You're here!  Thank God.  But how?"

   "Good morning, Mr. President," Josh replied wearily, hoping he had the time of day correct as he looked at his wrist where a watch should have been but wasn't.  "In case you were curious, I believe firmly that hurricanes named Horatio are not fans of Democrats.  Just something you might want to factor into any declarations or remarks you make concerning this little event in the future."

   "Are you all right?" Bartlet asked, ignoring—but reassured to hear—the sarcasm.  "Where is CJ?"

   "We're fine, mostly," Josh said then looked over his shoulder.  "Hop-along Cregg will be here shortly.  She's a little gimpy right now.  Her foot was sort of pointing in the wrong direction for a while, but someone fixed that.  She was pretty cranky until the doctor whacked her full of the blue pills."

   "She's here?" Bartlet asked anxiously.  "She's with you and she's all right?"

   "Yes, sir," Josh nodded, pleased to alleviate the man's visible distress.  "She got mugged by Carol and Jack as we rounded the corner near the Communications Bullpen.  Nobody was that interested in me."

   "That's because I was writing the thing for you and I was right here," Sam said stunned by his reappearance from the dead.  Without waiting for a signal that it was welcome, Sam hugged his friend impulsively, causing Josh to wince and push the other man away swiftly.   

   "I don't know what that means, but thanks and… Ow," Josh replied painfully.  "Please let go."

   "Sorry," Sam apologized and stepped back.  "Are you hurt?"

   "No," he lied breathlessly.  "Just don't do that—ever.  So someone did notice that we were gone?"

   "They told us you were caught in a flood and didn't make it," the President said urgently.  "What happened?"

   "Apparently there was a storm," Josh said shrugged and shook his head.  "I've sort of been out of touch with the news.  I'm sort of worried that Ron Butterfield had to sign me into the building because he thought my access code would be locked out.  Do I still work here?"

   "Wee thought you were dead, but we'll probably call off the search for your replacement now," Bartlet relented.  "Though, I suppose I should fire you for scaring us like that.  Are you all right?"

   "We got wet," Josh said simply, ignoring the finer details.  "CJ fell down.  Those are the highlights.  She tells it a little differently, but you should keep in mind that we had to drag her out of the… Well, it was like a river, like a really mean river with a vendetta against things that… don't live in the water, I guess."

   "Have you slept any time recently?" Leo asked skeptically.

   "Probably while I was driving, but that's not the interesting part," Josh shrugged as a smirk drew on the corners of his mouth.  "If you want a really good story, you should make CJ explain to you about the cell phone."

   "No, I don't think we will," Bartlet shook his head; Josh's irreverent demeanor was one of the things he feared he would miss most but experiencing it again, he was no longer sure.  "So long as you're safe.  That's what matters."

   "Yes, sir," Josh replied.  "Can I take this moment to mention that the EPA needs to revisit their studies of watersheds and dredging regulations for streams?  Also, dams made out of dirt—not a good idea.  I'm no expert, but dirt and water equal mud. Who's brilliant idea was it that mud was better than concrete?"

   "I honestly don't know, Josh," Bartlet said flatly.  "Do you have any other environmental observations you feel the urgent need to express?"

   "He's also advocating we create more deserts," Leo added and Josh nodded quickly, appreciating the assistance in his lobbying effort.

   "You can brief me another time," Bartlet said, gingerly patting the Deputy Chief of Staff on the shoulder.  "Have you called home?"

   "What do you mean?" Josh asked bewildered.  "It's Saturday."

   "Leo, you seriously have to teach him about priorities," Bartlet shook his head.  "Josh, most people, after an event like this, would contact their family first. Am I right in assuming that you did not?  You just came here from the airport?"

   "Well…. yes," Josh said hesitantly, not seeing where there was anything wrong with such a course of action.  "But for the record, I did call here and… no one wanted to talk to me."

   "How's that?"  Bartlet asked.

   "We're looking into it," Leo said, then cast Charlie a sharp look that added the task to his duties for the day.  The President's Aide nodded and made a note to have someone check the call log with the switchboard to find out who took the call.  

  "If the technology and internal intelligence committee is finished…," Bartlet interjected, pointing at the door.  "Find a phone that works.  Call home, then go home."

   "Yes, sir," Josh replied then paused in his exit to seek some answers.  "For the record, before I was hung up on, we tried to call numerous times since 11 p.m. yesterday.  We couldn't get a call out from North Carolina until we got to the airport this morning.  Most of the land lines are still down there.  Nothing here would even connect.  Once we landed at Dulles, we tried again using a cell and that's when we got the brush-off from the operator or maybe it was that particular phone.  And speaking of that phone…"

   Josh then peered over his shoulder again to where CJ and her crutches appeared looking weathered, weary and beaten up.  Her face was deeply scratched and her jaw bruised.

   "_Shuh__ up_," she ordered through clenched teeth and swollen lips.  "_No one cares a'out the 'hone_."

   "Claudia Jean," the President said warmly and greeted her tenderly.  "Nature went up again you and lost, I see.  I never doubted you for a moment."

   "_Hank you, Mista Pwesident_," she said shyly.  "_But Ca-wol said you tol' evey-un on staff tha' I uz dead_."

   "Would it make you feel better if I told you that Leo made me do it?" Bartlet offered quickly.

   "Does anyone want to hear about the phone?" Josh began.  

   "No," Leo said curtly.

   ""My phone… uh… drown," Josh began unhindered.  "Anyway, I found this phone in CJ's car when we got back.  Turns out its Danny's phone.  That would be Danny Concannon.  The funny thing, and that's funny weird not funny ha-ha, is that I found it in the backseat of CJ's car.  CJ, tell them why I found Danny's phone in the… _Ouch_!"

  Josh rubbed his shin on the spot where CJ's crutch had just struck him.  

   "_Wuss_," she said barely audibly.

   "I'm asking Danny how it got there," Josh countered to her quietly.

   "_Mista__ Hezident_," CJ continued with difficulty.  "_My a-hologies.  I should have drown him when I had the shance_."

   "When was that, before or after you fell in the…," Josh began.

   "All right," Bartlet commanded, halting the spat.  "I see that we are indeed one big, happy and dysfunctional family again.  I cannot express how gratified I am to see that you do possess animated corporeal form.  Now…"

   In that instant, the doors to the colonnade opened and the First Lady, Abigail Bartlet appeared in the door way wearing a perturbed yet relieved expression. She approached with her arms held out to both of them.

   "Lilly just called and told me she saw you in the building," Abbey scolded them briefly.  "I said she must be crazy, but she assured me you were both here, and she was right, which makes me wrong, and you know how I hate being wrong.  So what do you have to say for yourselves?"

   "CJ just hit me," Josh said innocently and looking for an ally.

   "Then you must have been a very bad boy," Abbey said sternly then hugged him briefly and kissed his cheek dryly. 

   "I try," Josh said inanely as he winced.

   "Claudia Jean," Abbey sighed, embracing her more gently.  "You've seen doctors?  You should see your own doctor tomorrow.  You too, Josh.  And call them now.  If they don't have time, let me speak to them and I'll see that they make time."

   "We're fine, Ma'am," Josh offered.  "CJ just looks bad because…  She doesn't handle the outdoors quite as…. _Ouch_!  Okay, that's twice!"

   "Josh," Abbey sighed watching him glare at his cohort and her crutches.  "You are an unmitigated pain in the ass."

   "I try," he said with a shrug.

   "It shows," the First Lady smirked with her approval.  "I contemplated going to your funeral once. That was enough. Now, you've put me through it again and added CJ to the mix. I'd ground you both if I had the power."

   "This one was nature's fault, Ma'am," Josh informed her.

   "Any reason why can't still blame you?" she asked.

   "No, Ma'am."

  "Good, then," she smiled as she prepared to return to her previous appointment.  "Now, Jed, don't keep them standing here talking about erosion or whatever you men are fascinated by right now.  Make these people go home.  If either of you do this to me again and I'll kill you myself."

   The First Lady bade them good afternoon and left with the same suddenness with which she had appeared.  

   "Well, as usual, she upstaged me," the President said. "That was the gist of what I wanted to say—minus the overt threat of bodily harm.  Could someone maybe…"

   "I just did," said the new voice in the room.  Will Bailey leaned on the door casing looking eager and without assignment.     "I hope you don't mind, Josh.  I took the liberty to call Donna.  Sorry, CJ, I don't know your family, so I just called Donna.  I think she understood me, but I'm not sure because the phone went dead."

   "Did we piss off AT&T and Verizon while I was gone?" Josh asked though no one seemed to notice or care.

   "Actually, it just didn't have anyone on the other end anymore," Will explained.  "I spoke to her then I heard some shouting, and then I think a door slammed.  So, Josh, when you get home, you might want to hang up the phone at your house or you won't be able to dial out.  Oh, and it's nice to see that you're both alive.  And it was in that spirit of elation that I sent Ginger into the briefing room to let Toby know the news."

   "I should call my mother," Josh said figuring it best if he beat Donna and the press corps to that task.

   "She's here," Leo informed him.

   "Here as in '_in __Washington__'_ here or here as in '_in the office_' here?" Josh asked feeling guilty about either possibility.  

   "Probably both," Will said.  

   "So it's true?  You said were serious when you said….," Josh said then trailed off as the thought of what such news would do to his mother raced through his mind.  "Oh god, you didn't.  How is my mother?"

   "Your mother is a trooper," Leo told him.  "Let her yell at you or fuss over you, whatever she wants to do when she gets here.  She's earned it."

   "Donna was also mildly interested in what was going on," Will offered.

   CJ had drifted away from the discussion to watch the TV.  On the screen there had been the live feed of the closed circuit broadcast from the briefing room.  Toby had previously been at the podium.  However, after receiving a message from Ginger, he had blanched then swiftly exited the room.  

   "_To-he just wan out of duh bweefing woom,_" CJ said sharply as she moved closer to watch the TV.  She had watched with curiosity as he raised his hand to pause then scurry from the room quickly.  "_Dat__ was unpwofessional_."

   "No doubt," Sam agreed, not caring what had occurred, as he hugged her cautiously.  "He's been pitching in while you were dead.  I think he probably read Ginger's message and…."

   "Yeah and while this is good news," Toby's winded voice, slightly angry, echoed from the hall, "I just now realized that I maybe should have handled that better." 

   "If you want to blame someone, I nominate CJ," Josh said stepping aside in case the speech writer charged.  "You might want to be careful, though.  She's got those weapons and Danny's phone.  Hey, ask her where we found Danny's phone."

   "I may have liked you better dead," Toby said to Josh then turned his sights on CJ.  "You look like you went 10 rounds."

   "_I'm fine_," she said thickly.  "_I'm a_ _wittle__ bwuised, but I'm fine.  I jus' need someone to give me a wide home.  I can't dwive wiv vis_."  She motioned to the fiberglass casing on her ankle. 

   "We'll arrange it," Toby said.  "I'm going to hop back into the press room now and explain why I…"

   "_Wan away_?" CJ offered disapprovingly.

   "Came to verify a perplexing note passed to me, thank you," Toby asserted.  "Have you called your families?  Do they know?  Because I'm going to have to do this right now."

   "I called Donna," Will said.

   "_I called my stepmov-er when we awived_," CJ said.  "_She tol' me vat I vus dead_."

   "How does it feel?" Will asked.  "Being resurrected?"

   "_I want to bwush my teef_," CJ said.

   "Not the response you'd typically expect," Bartlet offered.  

   "Maybe if you all knew more about why I found Danny's phone in the….," Josh began but received a stern look from Leo and ceased his inquiry for the moment.  Will took that opportunity to drift away from the conversation to go toward the lobby to wait for the Mrs. Lymans' and direct them to the correct area to pick up their loved one.

   "If Josh will cease his fixation with a phone no one in this room owns, I would like to order you both home or to hospitals or wherever is best for you both right now," Bartlet said.  "I don't want to see either of you in this office tomorrow.  I mean it.  We can get the details of your white water…"

   "It was more like black and green water," Josh corrected him.

   "…adventure later," Bartlet continued.  "Take whatever time you need.  We will manage here.  At the very least, you both stay home tomorrow—I know it's a novel idea for a Sunday, but I'm laying down the law and the security in this building works for me."

   "Mr. President, I'm fine and there's no reason…," Josh began but was cut off.

   "Leo?" Bartlet said.

   "Josh, the President gave you an order," Leo explained as though he were dull.  "You still answer to him so when he says do it, you do it."

   "Yes, sir," Josh said humbly.

   "Thank you," Bartlet continued.  "I don't want either of you back here until Monday unless I personally call you, and they don't let me personally call anyone any longer.  I'm not sure when I gave up that right exactly, but those are the rules.  Understood?"

   Both nodded their assent though each was equally sure they were more than ready to resume their duties that moment.  Each was eager to do so, to return to the normal chaos in which they thrived; that chaos mostly of man's making rather than the elements of nature.

   "Josh, you're probably going through withdrawal not having been here in a week, but I think after what you've obviously been through you can tough it out," the President said, diagnosing his downcast expression accurately.  "I am immeasurably grateful to have you both back here safe.  Now, get out of my White House.  Leo, I'm energized.  Give me something big.  I could climb Mt. McKinley right now.  Let's get Arafat on the line or the President of Liberia.  I'm up for a challenge."

   "Lunch is on its way," Charlie informed him.

   "Even better," Bartlet nodded and pumped a quick thumbs up at his aide as he headed into his office.

   "Thank you, Mr. President," Josh said.

   "_Fank__ you, sir_," CJ echoed.  

   Sam stood beside the Debbie's desk.  He grinned boldly for many reasons.  As the discussion broke up, arrangements were made for CJ to be brought home and both she and Josh to take the rest of the weekend off to rest from their ordeal, he remained quiet.  After several lengthy minutes of his toothy grin, Josh grew uneasy.

   "Sam?" Josh said warily.  "You're looking kind of creepy there."

   "I just wanted to say," Sam said, but stopped and changed his words.  "I'm happy for you.  So very happy.  Happier than you understand obviously, but you know…. "

   "Happy?" Josh ventured.

   "Immeasurably," Sam replied.

   "Okay, just don't hug me again," Josh stepped back.  

   "I won't," Sam said, stepping back as well for fear he might accidentally loose a hug.  "I wasn't going to."

   "You looked like you were in pre-hug stance," Josh insisted.

   "I wasn't," Sam lied.  "This is just that I'm…  happy.  For you.  Truly."

   "Okay," Josh said, keeping an eye on Sam, as he headed out of the outer office and toward the Operations Bullpen.  "Happy is nice.  Creepy, but nice.  See you tomorrow."

   "Not in this building, you won't," Leo ordered and wondered how effective the directive would be.

*****************

_Northwest Lobby_

   The two women hurried into the building.  Donna signed in her mother-in-law and walked quickly through the swinging doors that led to the Operations Bullpen.  She could see at least one door to Josh's office was still closed.  

   "Is he there?" Anna asked, wringing her hands.  "Donna?"

   Donna noted that there was no light coming from under the office door.  Sometimes, when there was a light on inside, you could see just a wisp of it under the door if the light in the hallway was dim enough.  Donna wasn't certain if conditions were right, but she felt certain that it was dark in Josh's office.  Dark was good, she thought.  Dark meant no lights and no lights frequently meant Josh was there… except when he wasn't.   She placed her hand on the door knob and felt the resistance of the lock.  She knocked twice and listened.  There was no sound inside.

   "Who was it that called you?" Anna asked again.  

   "Will Bailey," Donna said.  She turned to her area and surveyed the desk and the floor.  There were more flowers than she remembered, but that was not what interested her.  It was what was not there.  There were no bags, no Josh, no indication that Josh was in the building.  "He's a…  friend.   He's Sam's new project.  Sort of.  He  works at the OEOB.  He said they were here.  He's not going to tell me something like that unless it was true."

   "There's no one here," Anna observed, gripping her visitor's badge anxiously.  "Donna, I don't understand.  I thought you said he was here."

   "I thought he said…," Donna began and started to tremble.  Donna feared for a moment that the call had been a prank or that this was another nightmare like the ones that plagued her as she tried to sleep each night now.  Her back was turned toward the hallway and she did not see the newcomer approach.  "It sounded like Will.  I mean…  He said it was…  Anna, wait here.  I'll see if I can find someone to tell me what's going on."

   Donna hurried down the hall to search for Will or anyone else who might know what was going on.  Anna looked around at the area she knew to be called the bullpen.  There were fewer people than she expected to see.  Her son always proclaimed that his job was a seven-day per week affair.  Seeing fewer than half a dozen people in area present to keep things running removed any doubts she may have had about how overworked he was.  Apparently he and Leo had run the country.

   After several moments of too much silence, she rose from Donna's chair and walked down the hallway that she believed led to Samuel Seaborn's office.  She knew that he would find her the answers she sought and if not him them Toby Ziegler.  She found a gaggle of staffers watching a television on the wall; on the screen she saw Toby, who appeared to be taking questions from reporters.  Anna wondered briefly if something awful had happened in the world.  Not that she cared, but her attention was drawn to the picture of him standing behind the podium some place in the building.  She was watching rather than listening as she paused in the hallway. 

   "Hi, Mom," Josh said, as he appeared around the corner.

   Anna turned suddenly at his voice and felt a rush of tears spill from her eyes.  

   "Joshua," Anna gasped and rushed to him, hugging him tightly and not noticing the painful wince it caused.  "Oh my sweet, sweet boy.  My baby, are you all right?"

   "I'm sorry," he said as he closed his eyes and embraced her.  "I tried to call.  There was just no way to get word out of that area.  I never meant for this to happen."

   "I don't care," she said softly as she said a quick prayer of thanks before stepping back to give him an appraising look.  "Just as long as you're all right; are you all right?  What's is that?  Joshua, you're hurt."

   "I'm fine," he said and viewed her sour look.  "We just sort of went rafting… without the raft.  I needed a few stitches, that's all.  Really, it's nothing."

   He wasn't sure he had convinced her, but he didn't care.  He was tired and glad she hadn't reacted worse than he expected.  She looked tired and much older than she should, and he knew both were his fault.  He decided to take Leo's advice and let her do whatever she wanted—even if it meant embarrassing him.  He walked with her back toward his office.  As they approached the bullpen, he spotted Donna coming down the hall with Will Bailey talking to her hurriedly to her as she squeezed his hand.  As they spotted Josh, Donna abandoned the new speech writer and drew closer with a guarded expression.

   Donna took an appraising look at Josh then returned to her desk and picked up her phone.  Finding no dial tone, she pulled her cell phone out of her purse then flipped through her rolodex.   Finding the number she wanted, she dialed and made her call while her mother-in-law dealt with Josh, who was attempting to assure her that there was nothing wrong with him. 

   "You're lying to me, but I don't care," Anna sighed rather than argue.  She examined the bruise on his cheek with disapproval and concern.  "I thought I'd lost for you certain this time.  My heart was broken forever."

   "I'm sorry," he said guiltily.  "I didn't know that they had…  I didn't mean to make you worry.  I'll make you a promise, if I'm ever dead for real, I'll call you myself and tell you.  All right?"

   "Joshua, that is absolutely not funny," she scolded lightly.  "We're taking you to a doctor…"

   "I don't need a doctor," he said.

   "Yes, you do," Donna said, snapping the phone shut and fixing him with a pointed look.  "They'll take you now.  We should leave.  I called Dr. Mendon.  He's waiting."

   "I saw a doctor," Josh said holding up his hand.  "See, they did some sewing, and they said I'm fine."

   "They lied," Donna said.  "Let's go."

   "Wait, my bag is…," Josh paused then pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to recall where he had put it.  "I think it's in CJ's car.  I found this phone…."

   "You can get your bag some other time," Donna said, fishing the keys out of her jacket and preparing to usher him out of the building or summon security, whichever would go more smoothly.  "It's not important now; the doctor is waiting."

  Josh looked up to see the controlled expression on Donna's face and wanted to crawl back into the river that had tried to kill him.  She looked restrained and deeply angry.  There was look in her eyes that smacked of agitation that he thought he recognized from the countless conflicts in the summer.  He wasn't sure he had the energy to go even one round with her nor did he feel up to crafting a deft apology for anything.  He merely looked at her then shrugged.

   "Sorry," he said.  "My bad."

  "Yeah," she said in a calm tone.  "You ready to go?"

   Josh nodded.

   "I'm sorry, Donna," Anna said, stepping away from him.  "I'm monopolizing him."

   "No," Josh cut in to avoid the discussion.  "It's the office.  There are…. rules."

   "Oh, you and your rules," Anna scoffed.  "If your wife wants to…."

   "No, Anna," Donna said.  "Let's just get going before someone starts asking him to work."

   "Won't happen," Leo said approaching from the end of the hallway.  "Anna, Donna, I'm supremely sorry for the mistake.  Truly.  We had information, and I'm glad for once that it was wrong.  I guess I should have known that a Category 5 hurricane and a few hundred million dollars worth of devastation wouldn't be a problem for Josh.  I'd tell you the law of averages says a mistake like this will never happen again, except this is Josh and we have a saying in this building:  We don't say the words _never_ and _Josh_ in the same sentence."

   "That would have been a touching eulogy," Josh remarked but from Leo's exasperated expression, he could tell it was an ill-advised remark.  "I'm going to shut up now."

   "Donna, he's not back here until Monday at the earliest," Leo said.  "Shackle him to something heavy if you have to, but keep him away from here—that's an order."

   "Leo, I'm telling you…," Josh started to argue but was silenced by Leo's raised hand.

   "The President said Monday, Josh," Leo ordered.  "Besides, you look like hell.  Things aren't exactly a bed of roses here lately.  Having you walking around and looking like an extra in a horror film will just bring us down.  Take the extra day: sleep, apologize to your mother and wife, and try to remember what it means to relax."

********************

_Press Secretary's Office_

   CJ hobbled into her office and sighed gratefully at the familiar surroundings.  She needed to see that everything was still there and in place.  She needed to see it to help her be certain that she was indeed back in her world.  She looked around and felt more grounded than she had in many days.  

   "The things you do to get my attention," said a voice behind her in the door way.

   CJ sighed and through her bruised face smiled with a little pain.

   "_Danny_," she said recognizing the voice as she turned around.  

   He looked disheveled and drawn.  There were dark circles under his eyes and there was paleness in his cheeks that made it look as though he had been suffering from a long illness.  Danny approached her and hugged her for a long and lingering moment.  CJ felt tears well up in her eyes and was prepared to blame them on the breaks and scrapes pervading her body if necessary.  However, she blinked them back expertly and straightened her shoulders.

   "_Where is she_?" she said through her swollen lips.

   "Carol?" Danny asked, looking over his shoulder.  "No idea."

   "_No_," CJ said firmly.  "_Gail_."

   "Oh," Danny said guiltily.  

   "_Where is my fifsh_?" CJ asked, looking at the bowl with puzzlement.

   "Fifsh?" Danny repeated.  "Oh, fish.  Right.  See, here's the thing.  I took custody of her when you were dead, because that's the kind of stand up guy I am.  I take responsibility.  I'm a responsible kind of guy.  It's one of the many admirable things about me and the reason why I should be loved and perhaps adored."

   "_Danny_."

   "I only say this because there are a lot of guys who would just walk away," he continued.  "They don't take responsibility for fish or other things.  But I did because I'm a … ."

   "_Where is my fifsh?_"

   "She wasn't looking so good," Danny said.

   "_Where is_…?" CJ began.  "_Did_ _you kill her_?"

   "No," he argued.  "She was sick—maybe it was a broken heart, you never can be too sure with these fish.  They're deep creatures."

   "_You didn't_ _fush_ _her did you_?"

   "Fush?"

   "_Down the tio-yet_," CJ explained, using hand motions to help with her communication.  "_Fush__.  Fush_."

   "Oh, flush," Danny nodded.  "No.  I brought her to the vet."

   "_You bwought a fish to the doctor_?"

   "I'm a responsible kind of guy," Danny replied.   

   "_So where_…"

   "And then the vet flushed her."

   "_Danny_!"

   "She got all flakey and her head was pink and white," he explained.  "I mean, how long could a fish live in the DC sewer system, right?  It was a quick death, I think."

   "_Twust_ _me when I said it powably wasn't_," CJ said, not bothering to say she felt her experience analogous to the way Gail had been treated.

   "I'll buy you a new fish," he offered.

   "_I want my ol' fish_," she insisted.

   "You want me to dive into the sewers to find her?"

   "_You're_ a _weporter_," CJ offered.  "_It'll be_ _wike_ a _pwomotion_."

*******************

_The Lyman Home_

_9:30 p.m.___

   Donna heard the water in the sink stop and the clatter of a toothbrush as it dropped back into the holder.  She sat on the bed wearing her pajamas and waited for Josh to come into the bedroom.  They had returned from the doctor's office several hours earlier with many medications in hand.  The stitches in Josh's hand were fine as he had proclaimed.  However, along with them the Mr. Mendon informed her (over Josh's objections) he also had a budding blood infection from the cuts on his hand, several cracked ribs and a host of other abrasions that needed attention.  The combination of the medications was going to relieve the pain and fight the infection, she was told.  However, she also was certain they would send him into a thick fog of non-comprehension for several days.  She was grateful Leo didn't want to see him before then.  They would be dealing with Josh, the Beta version, until the first course of medications ran out.  

   Anna had gone to bed earlier, claiming she was taking the sleeping pills prescribed for her when this debacle started.  She needed sleep and felt that now she could do so comfortably.  She also put Donna on notice that the following day she intended to tend to her son in a fashion that he would detest but that would satisfy her need to mother him and allow Donna to get the rest she needed.  

   So Donna sat in bed, feeling light-headed.  This day was a blur to her.  She would have turned off the light already like she normally did when she turned in (regardless of where Josh was in the house), but he seemed slightly out of sorts and she wasn't sure if darkness would baffle him.  The last thing he needed was to walk into a dresser and add broken toes to his list of bumps and bruises.  

   When he appeared a moment later, she gasped.  He was wearing only a pair of boxer shorts and she could see the full extent of what Josh had described as "a little banged up."

  "Oh my god," she gasped as she got out of the bed and went swiftly to him.  "Josh."

  "It's nothing," he said.  "It's just a few bruises, Donna.  I told you.  CJ got the worst of it.  It looks bad because it's five days later.  It barely hurts at all.  But it's nice to know you care."

   "What?"

   "You're pretty pissed at me," he said.  "I can tell.  I could see it on your face when we were at the office.  You don't have to say it.  I know; I screwed up.  It wasn't my fault entirely, but I understand."

   "No, you don't," she said suddenly on the verge of tears, putting her arms around him gently.  

   "Uh," he groped for words.  "I… I guess I don't.  What…. Uh….?"

   "I thought I lost you," she wept.  "And all I could do was cry.  Then by some miracle, you came home and I didn't want to start crying because I didn't think I could stop."

   Josh embraced her, despite the soreness in his arms and chest.  It felt good even if it did ache.  

   "I thought I was in the doghouse again," he sighed.  "This is much better."

   "Come here," she said moving toward the bed.  "You need to rest.  You need to heal."

   "I need to tell you something," he said seriously.  

   "What?" she asked cautiously as she took a seat beside him.

   "I lied, a little bit, to you," he confessed.  "When I said I just cut my finger, that wasn't all of it.  I lost my wedding ring.  I'm sorry.  I don't know how it happened.  I think it happened when I got cut, that the ring did it, but I….  Why are you laughing?"

   Donna put her hand over her mouth to stop her giggling and wiped the errant tears that trickled from her eyes.  She wrapped her arms around him again and kissed him briefly.

   "You thought I'd be mad about that?" she asked chuckling at the absurdity.  "It's a damn piece of metal.  It can be replaced."

   "I'm sorry?" he replied.  He had been expecting a less subdued reaction.  "It was my wedding ring.  You don't think that's important?"

   "No, because you can get a new one," she said warmly.  "Assuming your finger doesn't fall off from an infection, we'll manage.  I don't care about the ring.  I care about you.  I have you back."

   She kissed him and pulled him close.  She managed to turn off the light somehow as she slipped out of her clothing.  Her mind was a blur yet her memory kept drifting back to a time and place that was so different and yet felt so similar: Miami.  Making love to him that night was as equally intense and powerful as it was unexpected.  Some time later, as she lay quietly cradling his head to her chest, she considered the next problem on the horizon.  While she much preferred the most recent turn of events, she wasn't certain how to deal with it.  Having Josh back was an answered prayer, but what she had to tell him would not be easy.  She was pondering ways to do it when she realized he was not asleep.

   "Josh?" she whispered as she felt his fingers tracing her collarbone.  

   "Hmm," he responded.

   "How can you be awake?" she asked adjusting her position to look at him.  "You must be exhausted."

   "I'm quite something," he murmured and grinned proudly.

   "I didn't mean that," she giggled softly.  "I mean, yes, but mostly you've been through a lot.  You should sleep.  Are you in pain?  Do you need anything?"

   "I'm fine now that I'm home," he said softly, stroking her cheek.  "It's funny I never thought of this place as home until…  Until it looked like I wouldn't be coming back."

   "Don't say that," Donna replied and shivered.  

   "Can I ask you something?"

   "Sure."

   "Do you still hate me?" he asked, looking at her with a saddened expression.

   "What?" she asked.  "Hate you? Josh, I don't hate you."

   "I wouldn't care if you did," he said.  "I mean, I would care, but wouldn't change how I feel about you."

   "Why would you think that?" she asked, hurt by the question.  "I never hated you."

   "You said you did," he reminded her.  

   "I was upset and angry," she explained, wondering how that wasn't obvious to someone as intelligent as Josh.  "We talked about this a few weeks ago.  Don't you remember?"

   "I know," he said, the exhaustion filling his brain almost to capacity, but still his mind would not rest yet.  "I was just asking.  After all this, everything I put you through, I wondered if maybe you did again."

   "I never hated you," she said.  "I know I said it, but I shouldn't have.  I didn't mean it.  I'm sorry.  I don't hate you; I never hated you."

   "It bothered me," he confessed, looking as hurt as she felt.  "I kept trying to figure out what I had done, but I didn't know.  I know things got better, but I had a hard time forgetting that you said that.  I was afraid I would keep doing whatever it was and then you'd…"

   She placed her hand gently over his lips to stop his words.  She kissed him gently and shook her head.

   "It was a hateful thing to say but it wasn't true," she promised.  "It was…  Things were complicated; they still are, but I love you.  When I thought I'd lost you, I was sure my world had come to an end.  That's how much I love you.  Without you, I don't know that I want to exist."

   Josh looked at her through heavy eyelids.  She looked sad and guilty and scared.  He didn't understand her expression and worried about it.  Something more was wrong, he could sense it, but his brain was not functioning.  The medication was taking hold.

   "Do you believe me?" Donna asked, stroking his cheek.  "I want you to know that—no matter what happened in the past or what happens in the future, I never stopped loving you and I never will.  I may not like you a lot at some moments, but my love doesn't stop.  I always want you around; I always want to be with you."

   "I like being wanted around by you," he smirked and yawned.  "It's kind of like when you used to come to my apartment only totally difference since you didn't stay over much and I think you wore less of my clothing."

   "I don't wear your clothes that much," she countered and decided to cut the conversation off as drugged up Josh was more argumentative usually than regular Josh.  "And I didn't stay at your apartment because we agreed that I wouldn't.  It wasn't a thing, remember?"

   "Yeah," he said then swiftly turned back to the previous topic.  "So, why did you hate me?"

   "Not now," she sighed quietly, stroking his cheek and willing him to give in to sleep.  "Josh, I'm just so happy that you're home and you're okay that nothing else matters.  You need to rest so why don't you…"

   "I want you to know that I'm sorry for whatever I did," he interrupted, apologizing with all the sincerity in him.  "I'm sure that doesn't mean much since I'm not sure precisely what I did, but I know I'm not really that good of a person when it comes to people and whatever.  I'm just not good at being... not me."

   "Don't say that," she said.  "It's not true.  You're—" 

   "No, Donna," he cut her off.  "I've had a lot of time to think in the last few days about how I am and the things I do.  And when we were out there in that storm things were…  It was…"

   As he paused, she felt him shudder slightly.  Instinctively, she took his hand, showing comfort and support where no words would suffice.  He met her eyes and before he could make any strategic decisions, he found himself speaking about the ordeal.

   "How bad was it?' she asked, knowing these might be the kind of wounds that needed a different kind of care.

   "It was dark," he said in a small voice.  "Everything.  It was dark, and it was cold. And loud. You couldn't hear anything; not even your own screaming. No one could hear us. We couldn't hear each other. We couldn't see each other. There was just this shrieking from the wind. And the rain was sharp, but I knew one thing."

   "That you were going to die?" she asked painfully.

   "No," he said firmly.  "That I wouldn't.  I decided that I was coming home; I had to. I never got a chance to say I was sorry or a chance to goodbye to you. So, I had to come home. I'd have walked all the way here if I had to."

   "Oh," Donna cried and brushed tears from her eyes as she snuggled as close as she dared to his battered body. 

   "You're my girl and I wanted to come home to you," he said in a sleepy tone as the exhaustion took over.  "I had to. So I decided I would."

   "That's one of the nicest things you've ever said to me," Donna replied

   "Yeah, and 'cause no one else is supposed to look at your legs and have sex with you except me," he muttered as he drifted off. 

   Donna scowled quickly as she caught the last remark.  She cranked her neck upward to look at him, now sleeping.

   "Now that's my Josh," she relented a frustrated grin and laid her head back on his chest to let the beat of his heart lull her to sleep.

   The following day was quiet at the house.  Donna napped on the couch while Anna was as good as her word and tended to her son.  Donna was not certain how much mothering he needed as he apparently spent most of the day dozing as well.  The drugs were having their predicted affect as well.  Anna did share with Donna that Josh had invited her to stay for as long as she wanted and even encouraged her to live in Washington.  He even put up a bout of pouting when his mother told him she was leaving on Monday to return to her home in Florida.  Both women agreed it was the medication talking and vowed to have as much fun at his expense in the future as possible when reminding him of his behavior.

   Anna left in the mid afternoon on Monday.  Josh was still, in his words, grounded.  His doctors advised he not return to work for the rest of the week to which he argued and bargained and received clearance to return on Wednesday.  Donna went to the office in that morning before he woke and gathered files and faxes that he needed to at least know about so that he wasn't hopelessly behind when he returned.  The medication was still making him loopy by the afternoon, but Donna was able to keep him on task and focused for a few hours while still managing to get the rest he needed.  She was feeling worn down and nauseated and did her best to hide it.  With Josh still partially in La-La land, she did not think it wise to broach the subject of her own medical problem.  She found it difficult to avoid the topic, though, as Sam met her at her desk grinning like a fool and seeking information on how Josh had reacted to the news.  She explained once, curtly, that he was in no condition to hear the news yet, but that only made Sam bolder.  She could see he was bursting at the seams to tell someone what he knew.  She regretted more and more ever telling him.  It would only make things more difficult when the time came.

   Donna sent Josh upstairs after lunch to get some sleep as she gathered his papers and made notes for things she needed to do that afternoon for his truncated working schedule the next morning.  With that done, she walked quietly through the house.  Finding nothing more to do, she washed the same coffee mug four times and swept the clean kitchen floor about eight times—all this after reading the paper cover to cover twice and trying (though failing) for more than an hour to find the $29.57 error in her checkbook.  When she cursed at the calculations, she did it softly.

   She wasn't sure she needed to—it was unlikely she would disturb him.  She liked to joke about Josh and his sensitive system—he really was a light weight with any sort of chemical (even a normal dose of caffeine had a strong effect on him).  She wasn't worried about the medication's effect on him being negative so much as she was just frustrated with having to play nurse/maid for him.  She didn't recall minding the job of caretaker so much after his surgery several years ago.  Then again, at that time, she only spent a few hours with him each day, stopping by in the morning to see what he needed, dropping by to see that he ate lunch and finally seeing him for a few minutes in the evening to make sure he wasn't planning to do anything stupid like try to leave his apartment unsupervised.

   This time, however, she was forced to live with him under the same roof and spend every moment there with him.  Her recent estrangement from him had left lingering prickles in her normally placid attitude toward his quirks.  Even though she expected the stereotypical mood swings, she was having a difficult time not snapping at him.  

   Certainly she was unspeakably glad he was home and relatively unharmed.  She didn't mind looking after him in a general way and were it not for the medication; he would certainly be capable of helping himself.  But she was exhausted physically and emotionally after the rollercoaster ride her life had become in recent weeks.  She sat at the table for a while and wept.  She wasn't sure how much of that was hormonal verse how much was just genuine breaking point.  Not that she cared.  There was one thing she was certain of: her husband was a high-maintenance patient.  

   High being the operative word there, she thought.  In the roughly 48 hours since he returned home, she was already eyeing his Percocet with both envy and ire.  The doctor said he would need them to deal with the pain from the cracked bones and the sewing job in his hand.  However, Donna noted, one painkiller appeared to have the power of two on him.  That coupled with the effects of medication fighting off the infection and the basic exhaustion that comes with the healing process needed for the body to repair itself drained a large part of Josh out of Josh.  When he was not operating with his complete faculties, he was a drastically different person.  How she wished she could slip into the semi-goofy relaxed haze where he was spending his day.

   Donna expected he would spend much of the day sleeping.  He needed the rest.  She could see that.  But she needed to speak with him at some point; not that she wanted to have this conversation with him but it was necessary.  What she would tell him precisely was still a mystery to Donna.  

   She entered the living room intent upon finding something to watch on television, though she was certain there was nothing worth watching during daylight hours.  She needed something to make her stop weeping and stop thinking.  Dwelling on what was about the happen only made her more anxious and that made her feel anger toward anything that crossed her path, which likely meant Josh as he was frequently within her sights.  Though, she considered, she probably could strike him once or twice and he'd never notice.  Dismissing such thoughts as patently unsportsmanlike, Donna grabbed the TV remote from a bookcase then turned to the sofa.

   "Are we watching something?" he asked from his reclining position on the couch.

   "Josh," she yelped in surprise.  "What are you doing here?  How did you get down here?"

   "I walked," he said.  "I think."

   "Did you need anything?"

   "I was lonely," he said and offered her a grin.

   "Ah, you took your pills," she surmised.  "I left them on the bed stand because you were asleep when I went upstairs after lunch."

   "Yeah, and then I was lonely," Josh replied, pulling himself up to a sitting position.  "Come here."

   He beckoned to her.  She sighed then did as requested.  She did not mind Josh being affectionate (or what he in his right mind would call needlessly—possibly revoltingly—mushy).  And, even though they were chemical induced moments, she enjoyed Josh letting his guard down with her.  She knew it would not last and part of her was thankful.  She was afraid she could get used to having a sensitive husband and would be sorely disappointed with the real Josh Lyman returned after his prescription was complete.  There were only a few more pills in the bottle, she knew.

_   There's something wonderful about the other him, too,_ she thought—though specifics of what that something was tended to be difficult to put into words or recognize without wanting to strangle him first some days.

   "I should enjoy this while it lasts," she said as she sat next to him and rested her head on his shoulder.

   "Probably," he replied.  "Enjoy what?"

   Some part of him knew this was all a hazy dream and he would wake up to find he was still something or other at that place where the President worked. 

   "Never mind," she shook her head testily.  "How are you feeling?"

   "I still love you."

   "I should consider getting you drunk or keeping you drugged a couple times a year so that I can hear that," Donna sighed.  "And don't argue with me or apologize.  It's not the real you talking."

   "But I do," he assured her as he pulled her close and settled back into a more relaxed position.

 "I know you do, Josh," she relented, feeling horrible for showing him her temper when he had done nothing to provoke it.  "It's just not like you to say that.  I don't mind when you do, and I think it would be creepy if you said it all the time.  It just makes the times when you do say it more special."

   "Say what?" he asked groggily.

   "Precisely," she answered and patted him on the cheek.  "Good back to sleep, Dopey."

*****************

_Tuesday, __11:13 a.m_.

   Donna gathered the rest of the morning's work off the kitchen table.  Josh was without medication today as he geared up for a return to the office tomorrow—a day ahead of CJ, he proudly proclaimed as if there was an office pool (which, considering the overly competitive atmosphere of the office was a possibility).  She was still restricting his phone calls to just those from Leo and Toby.  He was not pleased about this but had not choice.  He was still recovering and she still was able to get the phone quicker than he was; that and she had locked out usage of his cell phone and he had no idea how to under the security device.  However, it was her need to neatness that was her undoing.  She was intent upon straightening the papers and notes as she tucked them into his messenger bag and by doing so was two steps further from the phone than Josh was when it rang.

   "Josh Lyman," he said as he snatched the phone from the craddle.  "Samuel."

   Donna snapped her head around and gaped at him.

   "Did you talk to Toby?" Josh asked.  "What the hell is up with—  What?"

   Josh paused and looked at Donna quizzically.

   "What do I think about what?" Josh asked Sam.  "Yes, she's right here.... Nothing, why?"

   He then turned to Donna.  She trusted Sam not to say anything.  He promised, yet her nerves were tingling and her confidence wavering.  As Josh turned to her, she shivered.  

   "What are you supposed to tell me?" Josh asked her.  

   "Please get off the phone, Josh," she said stiffly.

   "She's not telling me anything," Josh said turning back to his conversation with Sam and ignoring her request.  "What was it?.... She's got something tell me? How do you know?... Oh, you just know?  Well, that's great, Sam.  I'm happy for you....  You're happy for me, too?  Great...  That's fine, but why are you— You're what?....  Well, I'm glad that you're glad, Sam.  Really, because you know your happiness is in my top 400 priorities normally so...."

   "Get off the phone, Josh," Donna said firmly interrupting the conversation.

   "I'm being ordered to stop talking to you," Josh said.  "Are either of us in trouble?"

   Donna sensed that that comment opened too many doors for the wily speechwriter to toss a telling comment innocently yet intentionally.  Donna decided to channel her jitters into some useful action.  She grabbed the phone from Josh's hand.

   "Hi, Sam. Good-bye, Sam," she said and swiftly disconnected.  

   "Something bothering you?" he asked as he opened the refrigerator and took out orange juice.  

   "Now is not the time," she shook her head.

   "For orange juice?" he asked slightly confused.  He stared into the glass then looked back at her.  "You've got something against Florida crops?"

   "What?"

   "Aren't we talking about orange juice?"

  In a burst of nerves and exhausted logic, Donna felt the words rushing over her lips.  _Do this like removing a band aide_, she told herself.  _The quicker it's done the less painful it will be._

   "Yeah, speaking of juice," she said in a rush.  "I'm pregnant."

   Josh paused with the glass in mid-air.  He froze for a moment then looked at her with a puzzled expression.

   "I'm sorry?"

   Donna waited for the rant to begin, the testy, annoyed, _how-the-hell-did-this-happen_ tirade she had been expecting and planning to weather.  She was ready for it.  She had all of her answers and was ready for the questions despite the butterfly shivers in her stomach, her sweating palms and shaking knees.  

   "I said speaking of juice, I'm pregnant," she repeated, firm in her courage.  His expression remained blank.  "Josh, this is the part where you say something.  Anything.  I'm ready, so out with it."

   He put the glass on the counter and turned to face her.  

   "I thought you said you couldn't," Josh recalled.  "That we'd never…"

   "Well, see, the thing is," she said back peddling for a moment.  "When I said _can't_, I may have been overstating it.  It's complicated."

   "No, it's not," he said then unexpectedly grinned and hugged her.  "Who da man?"

   Donna heard a ringing in her ears and her knees felt like jelly.  This was not part of the plan; her mind reeled.  _He's supposed to be mad and upset and angry and yelling and… mad.  When he's mad he's not going to  want….  Oh my god.  This isn't happening_.

   "Josh," she said hesitantly then stepped back from him.  Her heart was racing and her skin felt clammy.  She looked hard at his eyes.  "I…. uh…  I have to…."

   "What?" he asked, still smiling in a pleased and hopeful way that further stabbed at Donna's heart.  

   "I forgot," she lied.  "I was supposed to call my mother.  I have to do that.  Now."

   "Now?  Donna!" he said.  "You have to do that now?"

   "Yes," she answered quickly and started to edge out of the room.

   "What is it?" he asked.  "Is something wrong?  You seem agitated."

   "No," she lied.  "Maybe your fever is spiking again.  You should go lay down."

   "Donna, I'm fine; I don't have a fever," he protested.  "You tell me something like this and….  I mean, isn't this something that you'd want to talk about; you're the one who thinks talking is… you know, a good thing.  Why…."

   "Josh, it's complicated," she said quickly.  "I need to talk to my mother."

   "That's fine, but right now?" he persisted.  "Why this very second?"

   "I… I..  uh.," she stammered.  "I forgot that my mother knows.  I… Uh…. I don't want her to tell anyone."

   "Why not?"

   "Yeah, why not?" she repeated more quietly to herself.  "Because…. Because you don't know."

   "I do now," he grinned.  

   "Right, but… uh…. I want to tell her that you know so she knows that you know so she knows that other people who shouldn't know still shouldn't but could if she told them, which I don't want her to," Donna stated.

   Josh shook his head and rubbed his eyes.  He tried parsing the sentence and he began to get dizzy and his temples started to throb.

   "Okay, that made absolutely no sense," he said after a moment.  "What's going on?  Donna?"

   "Josh, I need to speak to my mother," Donna said.  "I… I want to tell her the news."

   "You just said she knows—or something that in intelligible English would mean that," he remarked.

   "Right, but she doesn't know that she knows," Donna lied, badly.  Josh looked at her questioningly but did not pursue it.  "It's complicated."

   "I got that," he said suspiciously.  "Donna, what's going on?"

   "I want to call my mother and you're giving me the third degree!" she said hotly.  

   "Sorry," he relented quickly.  "I was just…. You're acting strange, even for you.  If you want to call your mother, please do.  I didn't mean you couldn't, you were just…  I don't understand what's going on here.  You tell me this and now you're acting…  I just don't understand."

   Donna said nothing more.  She left the room quickly and went upstairs.  She closed their bedroom door and dialed her mother's phone number in Wisconsin.  There was no answer.  She tried her cellular phone without much hope.  The woman never turned the phone on, believing it was for emergency use only when she was on the road.  Next Donna dialed the only other person on the planet who might be able to track her mother.  

   The phone on the other end rang four times before being answered in a most expected and yet unprofessional manner.

   "Ralph Moss, Vice President of Stuff that's not important or pressing," her brother said.

   "Ralph," Donna said thankfully.  "You're at home not at the office—and you shouldn't answer the phone that way at work in the first place."

   "Hey, Little Girl!" he said warming to the conversation.  "Are you calling to give me phone etiquette tips?'

   "No."

   "Good, because I don't want any," he chuckled.  "How are you?  How's Josh?  I heard he was dead for a little while.  Isn't that guy ever careful?"

   "Not usually, no," Donna said.  

   "That's what he has you for, I guess."

   "Sure."

   "Okay, what is it?" her older brother asked with concern.  "Something is wrong.  I know that tone."

    "No, there's no tone," Donna asserted.  "I'm just….  You sound real busy and I don't want to keep you long."

   "Yeah, I'm swamped," Ralph yawned.  "My rubber band ball fell off my desk.  I've got pick it up or something.  Guess that's why I get paid the big bucks and have this dandy home office, huh?"

   "I know you enjoy pretending you're the family idiot and company slacker, but you're a great salesman and that's why they made you the vice president for marketing," Donna said.  She always worried about her bother's self-deprecation; he never gave himself the credit he deserved.

   "And here I thought it was because I'm married to the CEO's daughter," Ralph quipped.  "No wonder you work for the White House, Donna.  You're so smart."

   "Ralph, please I don't have time for this right now," Donna pleaded.  "I need some help.  I've tried to call Mom, but I can't reach her.  I mean, she called me after Josh got home, but we didn't talk long and now I need to talk to her.  Do you know where she is?"

   "Yeah, she's at Frannie's," he answered, explaining that their older sister's daughter had had her tonsils taken out the previous day and their mother had driven to Texas to see her.  "Mom's there making a federal case out of it so Frannie feels doted upon.  Don't get me started."

   "Oh," Donna said crestfallen.  "She's at Frannie's.  Did she happen to say when she'd be leaving?"

   "I don't think so," Ralph said sourly.  "But that doesn't mean it's true.  I might have and blocked it out or forgotten her name or something."

   "Ralph," Donna sighed.  "Please.  She doesn't mean anything when she does that."

   "No, Donna," he cut in.  "You know how much I hate it when….   Look, she called Tad '_Kermit'_ the last time she was here.  Can you believe that?  Her own grandson and she can't get his name right.  It's not like she has a slew of them around and it's confusing.  The poor kid cried because he thinks his grandmother doesn't know who he is."

   "She's never been good with anyone's name," Donna said in her mother's defense.  Donna was certain Ralph had never fully gotten over being named Raphael Marcello Moss—a name he couldn't properly pronounce until after taking speech lessons in school for several years.  "And, in her defense, Tad does tend to hop a lot."

   "She has no clue Kermit is the name of a frog and you know it," he replied though his tone was less sharp.  "As for your defense of her, I'd argue that her memory is selective.  She remembers Josh's name without any trouble.  Speaking of Josh, other than him not being dead, how are things between the two of you?"

   The last time Donna had spoken with her brother was in the late summer when things were not well.  The picture she painted of her marriage at that time was less than cheery.  

   "Yeah," she said held back a sob.  "Wonderful."

   "See," Ralph crowed.  "I told you all you needed was a little break to get some perspective."

   "Perspective?"  Donna repeated.  "Listen, Ralph.  I need to talk to someone and for reasons you'll understand in a moment, I can't talk to Mom because she's at Frannie's.  So, you're all I've got right now.  Remember when I called you when everything was so bad with Josh and then things got better and I was telling you everything that had gone on before that?"

   "Yeah," he said with trepidation.

   "Well, it turns out I left one part out," she said.

   "Like what?"

   "Like the part where it turns out I'm pregnant," Donna said painfully.  

   "Oh my god," Ralph gasped, understanding her dilemma.   "What did Josh say?  How did he react?"

   "He's ecstatic," she said as the tears started to flow again.

   "What the hell?!" Ralph squawked in disbelief.  "He was happy about it?"

   "He doesn't know," Donna cried.  "I didn't tell him the whole truth."

   "Donna!" he scolded.  "You didn't tell him that you…  Oh my god, Donna!  No!  You can't do that.  You have to tell him the truth.  You are playing with fire, little girl!"

   "But he was so happy," Donna wept.  "After everything he just went thought, I just… I can't."

   "You have to," Ralph commanded.  "Listen to me, Donna.  Don't do this.  If you're going to try to have this baby, you have to tell him the truth.  He deserves to know."

  "Ralph, you didn't see his face," she cried.  

   "You shouldn't be having this baby and you know it," her brother said sternly.  "You're lying to him, Donna.  Justify it all you want, but it's essentially lying.  Do you love him?"

   "Yes, I do," she sobbed.  

   "Then tell him the truth."

  "I can't do that to him," she said painfully.  "If he hadn't been happy—I was sure he would think it was a bad thing or the wrong thing or the wrong time—and then I could have just dealt with it fine; I had a plan for that.  I knew what I would do to make it right.  But I got it wrong; I made a mistake.  I've made a lot of them lately and I don't know what to do."

  "You have to tell him the truth is what you have to do," Ralph ordered.  "What is that term you use?  Damage control.  Time to start doing that."

   "No," she protested though she knew he was right.  "You don't understand.  He was so happy."

   "Of course he was happy," Ralph snapped.  "He thinks he's going to be a father!  But he's not, Donna, and you know it.  If you love him, you have to tell him the whole truth."

Up next—Chapter 16


	16. Hypocrits and Democrats

**Title: Heaven and Hell:** **_Hypocrites and Democrats _(Chapter 16)**

**Authors**: Enigmatic Ellie and Westwinger247

**Webpage**: 

**Email:** or 

_Toby Ziegler's Office_

_2 p.m.___

Toby sat at his desk, reading the Times editorial—circling in red the less than pithy phrases that, while poor writing in his opinion, were still going to create questions in the briefing room. He and the senior staff needed to put out a few fires quickly before accompanying the President on a three day trip to Europe for the economic summit. They would be in Germany for the discussions and now that the staff was back to a full—if slightly bruised and abraded—compliment he could focus on the itinerary. Specifically, there was one meeting he did not think it wise for the President to take. He had thought until Saturday that he would be going into this battle with the Commander-in-Chief alone. However, he now had a resurrected ally in Josh. Once he was back in the office, and perhaps before if he took another day off, Toby was going to engage in a frank discussion with him regarding the political ramifications of meeting with Dr. Dieter Richter, a rising political star in Germany with a penchant to economic policy. Toby wasn't sure that his own moral objections to the man would play well with Josh, but the politics he was sure would. All Toby had to do now was come up with a political scenario that was believable and detrimental. He was reading the Times that day making a list.

In the middle of his plotting, Sam entered having just spoken with Josh on the phone. While he still hadn't disclosed fully to his mending friend that he was in the know about all the new developments in the Deputy Chief of Staff's life, Sam was feeling pleased with his own place in the world all the same. He sauntered into Toby's office sporting a wide grin.

"Quite a day," he sighed grandly. "Quite a few days, actually. Wouldn't you say?"

"What?" Toby asked, looking up at his deputy with a mystified expression.

"Everything," Sam replied. "They're gone. They're fine and they're here. It's.... I don't know, but I feel... you know?"

"Yeah," Toby said blandly. "Overwhelming. Exciting. Go away."

"And it's only going to get better," Sam announced, ignoring the command to vacate the room. "I have that on good authority."

"Good for you," Toby shook his head. "I have it on better authority that you're interrupting me."

"Well, maybe it's not so much authority as it is being in possession of news... Information, if you will. Knowledge," Sam continued as he slowly paced in the room. "It's a about a thing. It's a good thing. A great thing."

"Sam, you're babbling," Toby sighed.

"You know, I think all along I knew this would turn out okay," Sam nodded. "I know we were all worried and Ed started crying at one point. Or was it Larry? Doesn't matter. But while you were all thinking the worst, I think, deep down I never lost hope."

"You were writing a eulogy," Toby said. "You did that because you felt hope?"

"I said deep down," Sam offered.

"That was denial, Sam."

"Yeah, I don't think it was," he shook his head. "See, I had this news, and it made me believe that things would get better."

"What news?" Toby asked, regretting any action he took that kept the conversation going.

"This news I have," Sam answered coyly.

"Which is...?"

"Yeah, I can't tell you," Sam replied.

Toby sighed again and scratched his head. "Sam…."

"The thing is, I'm not supposed to know," Sam explained cryptically. "And then I promised I wouldn't tell. But let me just say, it's good. Great. Wonderful. Joyous, in fact."

"I'm getting a headache, Sam, and it's your fault," Toby informed him flatly.

"You'll know.... soon, I suppose," Sam continued. "I'm sort of on the inside in this one. And I have to say I feel rather honored."

"I don't care," Toby said. "And unless it has to do with our trip to Germany in two weeks, I don't' want to know."

"Well, you'll have to know," Sam said. "And by that I mean, everyone will know. You can't hide these things and there's no reason anyone could want to."

"I care even less now that you're ending your sentences with prepositions," Toby said. "Whatever it is you know, I don't want to know. Wild dogs couldn't make me care."

"You'll care," Sam nodded. "Okay, maybe not care, but you can't ignore something like this.... Well, maybe you could, but you won't. Because you're not as mean or detached as you like people to believe. At least, most of the time."

"How about if I ignore you?" Toby asked as he returned his attention to his notes.

"You know what this is, I think you were feeling the heat," Sam surmised.

"Feeling the heat?" Toby repeated with a surprised chuckle. "Heat from you? On what?"

"The competition," Sam answered confidently. "The eulogies. I don't mean to brag, but I had quite something going there. I was on a roll."

Toby looked back at his deputy with a dumbfounded expression that prevented words—though there were many—from spilling over his lips for a few moments. He shook his head again.

"Competition, Sam?" Toby asked. "We were competing? And you think, let me get this straight, and you think that you were bringing the heat?"

"I think you could hear me knocking," Sam said.

"I think your fruity coffee has finally made you as loopy as its name," Toby replied. "You're going to honestly stand there in my office and claim you think you had something better? You think you could take me? I've written the majority of five State of the Union addresses, two inaugurals and countless, I say, countless other pivotal addresses that have helped shape domestic and world policy. I could handle a eulogy."

"Yeah, I hear that, but you were in CJ's office for an hour looking for inspiration from a fish," Sam pointed out.

"I already had ideas in my head."

"Well, I had the meaning of life scripted in eloquent phrases," Sam countered.

"On what? Your arm?" Toby asked. "The last time I saw you working on it, you had a blank screen. Your cursor had more life in it than anything you had down on the screen which was, as I just mentioned, nothing."

"I had things written," Sam defended. "A lot of things. Many, many things."

"I didn't see anything."

"I wasn't ready to share," Sam argued. "I even had a James Bond reference. Sort of."

"I don't want to know," Toby said, dismissing him with a roll of his eyes.

"Yeah well...," Sam sputtered defensively. "I would have amazed and bedazzled, which is probably not something you should do in a eulogy, but it was Josh and I thought it needed some gusto."

"Josh is his own gusto," Toby said.

"Now, sure," Sam shrugged. "But late last week he was a corpse."

"Well, we're passed that now and I'd like to get back to actually working," Toby said. "Have you spoken with Josh?"

"Yeah, just a few minutes ago," Sam answered and grinned at his little secret again. "He's sounding more like himself. He's still battered and bruised but he's rebounding well. He's still at home with Donna. His mother went home yesterday, I think. He'll be in tomorrow. He'll be in a good mood, I guarantee it."

"Good, then he can get to work with the mess we got from Wayne's office when he gets here," Toby said.

"Wayne's office?" Sam asked. "Congresswoman Wayne's office? What do you mean? I thought that I was going to..."

"Josh is back," Toby said. "He can handle it. It's his thing."

"But I was ready," Sam argued.

"Well, now you can focus on the D-section of the President's address at the summit," Toby replied. "Will is working on it, but I still say he's not out of junior high. Help him so that I have less I need to rewrite on the plane."

"But I was ready to negotiate," Sam replied dejected. "Why does Josh get to do this and I get stuck checking Will's grammar?"

"Let me see," Toby said strategically. "Josh is the White House Deputy Chief of Staff; he deals with legislative affairs and does most of the President's politics. Plus, he's been in on this since the beginning. Oh yeah, and because I said so."

"See, now you're just being mean," Sam said, turning to leave the office. "I think it might be residual stress from the heat. I'm calling this jealousy."

"Sam," Toby said with a flat stare.

The deputy communication direction read his expression accurately and nodded once before leaving swiftly.

_Lyman House_

_2:27 p.m.___

Josh sat very still as Donna ceased speaking. He knew as soon as she began that the news was not good. Knew what it must be, in fact. There was something in the carriage of her head, the downcast and guilt-ridden look in her eyes, the barely audible tremble in her voice as she came into the room and said they needed to talk.

He did not interrupt her. What was there to say? The news rocked him off his heels on some level and yet there was some part of him that was not surprised at all. The other shoe was never far behind any good news, it seemed. So he sat, waiting for words of his own, feelings that he could articulate, to come. But nothing did.

"Josh," she said in a soft, small voice as tears trickled down her cheeks. "Josh, please. Say something. Say anything. Don't retreat into that little, quiet, dark place you go to; I can't reach you there and I need you now. This is hard for me. Very, very hard."

The words, when they did finally come, were no louder than her own and seemed equally as feeble.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Sorry?" she repeated as she sniffled and brushed back the tears with the back of her hand. "You didn't do anything to apologize for. This is my fault. It's… all my fault."

"No," he said firmly as he cupped her face with his hand. "It's a fluke of genetics, right? You were born with this… whatever it is, right? You and your sister."

Donna nodded. It didn't make things easier knowing there was nothing she could do to avoid the inevitable conclusion to this process. Her body wouldn't maintain a pregnancy. She knew it; had known it nearly all her adult life. When she was younger, it didn't seem to matter. She wasn't interested in having children. Doctors had told her that given her body chemistry it would be a severe long-shot for her to even conceive without medical intervention.

"I should have told you the whole truth," she shook her head. "I never thought you'd be happy."

"What?"

"I was sure you'd be mad about a baby," she said.

"Why would you think that?"

"I don't know," she cried softly. "Bad timing? We hadn't planned it. I don't know."

"I see," he said, keenly feeling the insult he knew she didn't mean to give.

"But you were so happy and I think that makes it even worse," she sobbed, her whole body quivering. Josh hugged her instinctively, unsure what if anything to say. She continued in that fashion for a few minutes then regained her composure and pulled away from him. "I'm sorry. I thought I was more prepared to do this. I guess I'm still in a little bit of shock about all of it. I didn't think I'd ever be able to get pregnant; leave it to your determined DNA to…"

"I'm a Democrat through and through," he said mildly. "Imminent failure is never an effective deterrent."

She grinned weakly, but his half-hearted attempts at humor did nothing to stem the ache in her heart. The pain of knowing what would happen next was awful enough. Having watched one of the few genuinely unfettered happy moments she had ever seen Josh experience crushed by the devastating news about her inadequate reproductive organs was worse still. She had taken something from him that he had wanted badly—possibly much more than he even realized—and there was nothing anyone could do to give it back.

"What happens now?" he asked after several more linger moments of silence.

"Now?" she asked.

"Yeah, you said your body is going to reject this whole….," he paused, biting back the word _thing_, "process. When? Is it going to hurt you? What does your doctor say?"

"She wants me to see a specialist at John Hopkins," Donna replied. "There are only a dozen documented cases of this in the world. It's different from Rh-factor rejections and just about any other infertility or sterility problem. My body will generate a kind of, well, it's like a cancer…"

"Cancer?"

"No, no, not like that," she said as she watched his face grow suddenly pale. "I'm not good at explaining this. Frannie explained it this way to Rob the first time it happened to them. See, basically there's a protein in blood that people have but for reasons no one really understands, when it's configured the way it is in my family it reacts badly when estrogen and a few different enzymes and hormones are elevated due to pregnancy. It causes the white blood cells to go into overdrive. They attack the embryo—actually, they attack the placenta mostly—and that suffocates the developing cells. In that sense, it's like a cancer because of the lesions that form internally. Frannie tried to stick it out five times. The last time she went through all these procedures and was in the hospital hooked up to IVs the whole time; she made it into the second trimester but she nearly bled to death with the hemorrhaging. It was after that when she finally admitted what all her doctors said all along was true. There's no medical intervention that works. There's nothing that can be done."

"Are you in any danger?"

"No," she shook her head. "Not really. It'll make me sick; like fighting off a virus. In the end, there will be a miscarriage and a couple weeks later, everything is back the way it was before."

"But you said she nearly died," he pointed out with concern.

"That was different," Donna replied. "They were trying a lot of experimental treatment that was marginally sustaining the pregnancy, but the longer they held off the inevitable, the more the lesions grew and the more it attacked her body. She wanted that baby so badly that if Rob hadn't convinced her to stop the treatments, she would have died."

"When is all this going to happen?"

"I don't know," Donna said. "That's one of the worst parts, Frannie said. You just wait for it."

"So why don't you end it yourself?" he suggested. "Save the worrying and the illness and terminate this right now."

"Because it's my baby!" she snapped. She hadn't expected the suggestion and was appalled that it even occurred to him. "Everything doesn't have to be the easy way, Josh."

"If it's inevitable," he said, clueless as to why his thoughts were so deplorable. "Donna, you said it's all ready over; there's nothing you or anyone on this planet can do. Why are you going to make yourself suffer?"

"I… I…," she said, her lips quivering. "I don't know."

"You've never been opposed to abortion," he said.

"I've never been opposed to women having the ability to choose for themselves," she corrected him. "I like that I have the choice; I support NARAL and vote for candidates who are in favor of _Roe v. Wade_ so that I can continue to have right to make the choice myself. For the first time in my life, I'm exercising that right. I choose no."

Josh said nothing. He didn't understand. _Why invite and prolong the pain_, he wondered. She was obviously deeply upset with the situation and—since his lead balloon suggestion—with him as well. He knew a lot about losing something or someone you cared about deeply. Most of his losses had come as surprises, shocks actually, from unexpected circumstances. He was never given the gift of knowing that the end was imminent and being able to plan for it and settle his feelings on the matter. Still, having science step and speed nature along didn't seem to conflict with any of the advance notification benefits.

"Okay," he said finally.

"Okay what?"

"Okay, that's your choice," he said. "I just thought it would be easier on you if…"

"I know," she said, sighing and chastising herself for snapping at him. "You didn't say anything wrong. This is just hard for me. I've known about it for a lot longer than you. I forgot that I've had more time to think about it. Oh god, Sam."

"I'm sorry?" Josh asked, instinctively looking over his shoulder and expecting to see his friend walking down the hall.

"I told Sam," she gasped. "I was upset and… He had just told me you were dead."

"I wasn't dead," he said.

"We thought you were," she shook her head. "I didn't expect to… I told him. Not everything just that I was…"

"Pregnant," he said, the word feeling sour in his mouth and sounding hollow as it emptied over his lips.

"He knows," she said. "I don't want anyone to know. I don't want people feeling sorry for me or giving me advice. They don't know what this is like. I saw what it did to Frannie and she had nearly everyone she knew and worked with trying to be helpful but all it did was remind her that she couldn't do what a real woman can."

"You are a real woman," he said stunned by the comment. "Donna, this doesn't make you any less of a person. A lot of people can't have children. It's not a character flaw and doesn't make them any less important to the people who love them."

She nodded. She knew it was true—in theory. But he wasn't the one who was a mutant—that's how she felt. She was twisted inside, something in her wasn't right and was killing that which should have been her child. She'd never look into a baby's face and see her own eyes or Josh's smile. That hurt her in a way she couldn't articulate but could only feel. There was no use arguing the point. She would feel how she felt and no words in any language would alleviate her feelings of inadequacy.

"I know," she said. "And I suppose going through these next few weeks is not going to help me from feeling…. I know that's probably a good argument for ending this quickly—save myself the anguish. But, I can't. And I don't want to have anyone else try and talk me into it or give me the pep talk about hoping for miracles or whatever. I don't want to have to explain or justify this to anyone."

"So don't," he offered. "Sam won't say anything. I'll take care of it. You just… Don't worry about it."

She nodded. She held back any further tears, convinced she had shed more than enough for several years in just the past week. She could hide this secret easily. It wouldn't be long until it was over and she could resume life as she knew it previously. The end was coming soon, she knew. The fact that it had taken this long to discover the pregnancy was sign enough. The mild hemorrhaging had occurred several weeks earlier, fooling her into thinking it was her regular cycle. Had it not been for a screw up with her insurance company regarding her birth control prescription, she would have never needed the full exam which discovered the news. She might have never known about it at all and she loathed herself for wishing that was the case.

Communication's Bullpen

6:47 a.m., Thursday

Josh arrived at the office before Donna who was not feeling well. He made a point not to make a point of how malady. He hadn't slept the previous night. His mind was trying to exorcise the news she had given him—rather not so much the news but the way he initially reacted to it. The idea that they would have a child had taken him by surprise. Both the news and his lack of objection to it. The information that followed trounced any fleeting joy his earlier thoughts had generated. After Donna disclosed what was going to happen, two things kept running through his mind. The look on Donna's face as she told him the inevitable and thoughts of his own mother. Donna had told him months earlier that she couldn't have children. He had taken that news in stride not fully comprehending it or being bothered by it—that is until his mother dropped her not so subtle desires to have grandchildren in the near future. Adoption was the solution, he knew, and he saw no problem with it, but some part of him felt cheated by that. He feared that might show in his reaction and he dearly did not want Donna to sense this. It never occurred to him until he had the possibility of his own biological child dangled in front of him that he actually did want that.

But with that possibility slowly dying—and what else could you call it after Donna's explanation of what her body was doing at that very moment—he had another problem. Sam. He would like to tell him the truth, to tell him that things were about to go horribly wrong. Sam had a way of helping shoulder the awful things and even when he couldn't, Josh knew he was the sort of friend who would never refuse to stand beside him during the worst moments. He wasn't only about fair-weather. Sam was a true friend.

However, in this instance, he needed to keep Sam out of the picture. He had information that he shouldn't and Josh's job was to see that Sam understood no one else was to know anything. He didn't have a good or polite way to do this, especially with Donna beseeching him to not tell Sam the whole story. Sam's sympathy, above all, she said would make her feel worse. He would grieve along with them and she did not want that.

So Josh arrived at the speechwriter's office as Sam arrived with his beloved coffee in hand. He grinned wildly as he saw Josh.

"Hey, he returneth," Sam announced. "Back from the dead and back from a day off."

"Same thing sometimes," Josh replied as he followed Sam into his office and closed the door. "So we need to talk."

"Do we?" Sam grinned further. "You have something on your mind there, Josh?"

"Yeah," he said firmly. "Stay away from Donna unless it's work related."

"I'm sorry?"

"She's got a lot going on right now and she….," Josh began. "Look, just don't bug her."

"I don't understand," Sam said. "Did I do something? Josh, I was there for her when we thought you…"

"Yeah, I know all about that and I thank you for it," Josh said, cutting him off. "But everything is back to normal now so you don't need to check up on her or bother her."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he answered quickly.

"This is about the baby," Sam surmised.

"No, because there isn't going to…," Josh began then paused. "It was a mistake, Sam. There's no baby."

"Sure there is," Sam replied. "She told me that her doctor said…"

"Sam, we're not talking about it anymore," Josh said. "As of now, I'm asking you to forget she ever said anything. All right? It never happened."

"Sure it did," Sam said. "Josh, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "I'm asking you as your friend to let this go and pretend it never came up, okay?"

"No, it's not okay," Sam disagreed. "Hey, I'm your friend and I want to know what's really going on here."

"It's a bad time," Josh said. "Bad timing, really. And things change."

Sam looked back at him dumbfounded. He didn't know what was going on or what Josh meant by any of his requests. He knew what Donna told him. He hadn't made it up and it didn't seem likely from the way in which she told him that she was mistaken either. What had changed in the intervening days, he did not know. And from the haggard and retrained look in Josh's eyes, there was more going on than Sam could see or hear in this conversation. He wanted to pry further, but there was something in Josh's tone that told him it was best to just nod in agreement and let the subject drop. For now.

_Air Force One_

_7 pm___

The staff spent the rest of the week and part of the next readying for the Europe trip. Toby had won Josh over to his side and both had battled Leo, unsuccessfully, on the question of the German economist. However, they opted for one final effort on the flight across the ocean. While they plead their case one final time, Sam joined CJ for a meeting in a conference room to go over the itinerary that was giving the two other staffers such heartburn. He arrived to find her scowling at a copy of the London Times.

"I can't believe this," CJ grumbled, tossing a newspaper onto the conference table. The majority of her wiring had been removed since her accident. She wasn't able to eat solid foods yet and it was driving her crazy.

"Something's got your knickers in a knot," Sam said, picking up her newspaper.

"First off," CJ groused through her teeth, "Don't ever _ever_ use that phrase again."

"You bet," he replied. "You're cute when you're angry."

"I'm not angry," she replied. "Upset, yes. Pissed off, you betcha."

"Well," he reasoned, "you sound angry. You not being able to move your jaw and all. I mean, I just got around to deciphering what you're saying now that you're not completely wired shut."

"Shut up."

"See? I understood that clear as day," he smirked. "So, what's going on?"

"The Vatican," she growled, "denounced feminism. They're saying it's blurring the differences between men and women."

"What?" Sam asked. "I think that there's a _big_ difference between men and women."

"Not physically," CJ sighed. "They're saying that in the drive for equality makes homosexuality and heterosexuality virtually equivalent in what they are calling a polymorphous sexuality."

Sam scanned the article in question.

"Oh come on CJ," he sighed. "According to Professor Lakeland, this document in question is likened to a feminist document."

"Only in regards to fair treatment for women in the workforce," CJ countered. "It said that feminism is destroying the two-parent system. And that women shouldn't have to choose between their work and their family life. What? So woman are the only ones who have to sacrifice? What about the man? Why is it the women have to sacrifice their careers in order to have a stable family life?"

"CJ."

"Look at our own Congress," CJ continued. "Women hold 73 of the 535 seats in Congress. Seventy-three! That's fourteen percent, Sam. The United States ranks 58th in the world in gender parity in its national congress."

"What do you want me to do?" Sam asked.

"I think we need to talk to the President," CJ replied.

"No."

"No?" she asked.

"CJ," Sam warned. "He's the President of the United States. Not to mention a Catholic."

"I'm a Catholic," CJ pointed out.

"There's also a little thing called Separation of Church and State," Sam replied. "Look, CJ, This is one of those times where it's best to just leave it alone."

"Sam…"

"The Vatican agrees with feminism in regards to equality in education, politics and the work place," Sam told her. "It's only theology that you guys differ. Drop it CJ. Please."

CJ sighed in frustration. "We're not second class citizens, Sam. We deserve every right that a man gets."

"I know," he agreed. "Why do you think we're all here?"

_Josh and Donna's hotel room_

_Frankfurt__Germany___

_Wednesday, __2 p.m._

Donna sat at the table in the suite, compiling information for Josh's evening meeting. When they checked into the hotel the previous evening, Donna opted out of the staff get together, citing jet lag. After unpacking their suitcases, she took a quick shower and immediately fell asleep. She never noticed Josh coming into their room, abandoning the staff gathering earlier than normal.

Donna was sifting through some paperwork when she heard a knock on the door.

"Hey," Sam smiled as she opened the door. "How are _we_ feeling today?"

"I don't know about you, Sam," Donna replied, "but I'm fine."

"We missed you at breakfast this morning," Sam said.

"Uh, yeah," Donna returned to the table. "Josh let me sleep in. I had a rough night with the time change and all…"

"Ah," he nodded. "Not feeling well?"

"Sam…"

"Speaking of Josh," he said.

"I wasn't speaking of Josh," Donna said with confusion.

"I know," Sam replied. "I was. Or rather, I was going to. Where is he?"

"Um," Donna paused, "he's with…oh…well you know…"

"I don't know. That's why I asked."

"Come on," she pleaded. "You know who I mean. Shorter guy…"

"The President?" Sam asked. "Familiarity aside, Donna, I gotta tell ya, I don't think he'd be pleased you called him short."

"No," Donna shook her head. "He spends every day with him."

"Leo?"

"Yes!" she snapped her fingers. "Jeez. Why couldn't I think of his name? I only see it and hear it fifty times a day. I'm sorry, Sam, my mind's a little frazzled."

"I see," Sam nodded as he took stock of her appearance. Donna looked paler than normal (he attributed that to morning sickness), exhausted and out of sorts.

"When I get tired like this, I can't even remember my own name," Donna began as she fought back a yawn. "I've lost my pen three… No, now four times since lunch. I tried to open our door with Josh's keyless remote for his car."

"Why do you have his car keys?" Sam asked. "You both took the plane here with the rest of us."

"I stopped asking myself those questions," she said. "And to top that off, this morning, I couldn't open my water bottle."

"Cap on too tight?"

"No, I was using a can opener rather than my hands," she nodded. "It took me a few minutes to figure it out. Thankfully, Josh saw what was happening and came to the rescue."

"Speaking of Josh," Sam began again.

"He's with Leo," Donna informed him.

"Yes, we established that," Sam replied.

"We did?" she asked. "Right. We did. See, I'm coming out of it. It just takes a little longer when I'm tired."

"Right," he nodded knowingly. "How's Josh?"

"Fine I would guess," she answered. "Why? Have you heard something? I know he and Toby are a little displeased with the itinerary."

"No, I didn't mean about the Richter meeting," Sam said expectantly. "I mean about the news. I had a strange conversation with him. Actually, he said something strange to me and I was wondering why."

"You'd have to ask Josh," Donna said focusing on the pages in front of her.

"I'm asking you," Sam smiled easily. "Donna, what's going on?"

Donna said nothing. Josh had promised her he would speak to Sam and make it so that she wouldn't be put in this position. Donna swallowed hard, the tightness that she felt each time she was reminded of what was going to happen. She didn't know what he had said to Sam, but apparently it wasn't sufficient. She blamed that on two things: Sam's insatiable curiosity and Josh's sudden preoccupation with the President's meeting with some academic whose name she had a hard time recalling. She knew Josh was fighting a losing battle with Leo on whether the President should have a closed door meeting with the influential economist; he and Toby had deep reservations that were boiling over into elevated decibel discussions regarding the man. Donna hadn't followed the main argument mostly because she was having a hard enough time concentrating on keeping Josh on his schedule—something she previously could do without thinking but that now was taking all of her energy.

"Sam, I don't want to talk about this," she said. "I'm too busy to think about anything except getting the OMB to finish the last part of this report before dinner tonight."

"Is this about me?" Sam asked. "Did I do something?"

"No," she shook her head.

"'Cause if Josh is mad at me…," he continued.

"Sam, I'm just too busy," she said. "I'm really can't talk about this, okay? Josh spoke to you because… This is the way it's going to be. It's… complicated. I'm not ready to…."

Sam nodded and held his grin in check. He thought he understood.

"Gotcha," he said with a wink. "He wants to do a whole thing about it. Okay. That I understand. Mum is the word. I'm not going to say another word. No sir-ee. Not me. You can count on the silence of old Uncle Sam."

"Thank you," she said quickly.

"I'll act surprised when the time comes… for whatever," Sam continued. "I can do that. It's like speech writing. You play the role."

"Break a leg, Sam," she replied and began searching for her pen so she could finish with her notes.

"Total shock and amazement," he said. "I'll can do that. That's what friends are for… I mean, not deceiving and putting a false front, though I suppose you could make the case for it in…

"Sam."

"Right," he nodded. "Not another word."

"Thank you," she growled through clenched teeth. "God, where did I put that pen? Josh hates it when I switch colors and I've already started these notes in blue ink. I just don't want to start over."

"Donna?"

"Yes?"

"Your pen is in your ponytail," he pointed. "You stuck it there while you were talking."

Sensing she wanted to be left alone, Sam departed. He was on his way to his room to make a few calls of his own before staffing the President's meeting with Richter. Leo had thought it best, considering Josh's unwavering opinion that the meeting was a bad idea, that the Deputy Chief of Staff be given another assignment during that hour of the day. That and because no one, including Josh, thought he could keep his opinion off his face much less off his tongue during the meeting. The President and he had exchanged stern words over impact of the meeting that morning at breakfast, reminding many of the staff of the not so warm days leading up to the election when the President and Josh were not on cordial speaking terms. However, all fears of a new rise in the cold war were set aside as the day progressed. This was a one issue stumbling block and Josh wasn't in it alone. Toby was flying Josh's banner of caution as well. Leo's judgment overrode their objections and the meeting was set.

The meeting occurred and the world did not come to an end as the two staffers prophesied. Neither were pleased even after its completion, though all discussion of it was tabled. The administration completed its three day trip to Germany for the economic summit and returned back to the United States without incident.

_Washington__DC___

_Leo's Office_

_Monday, __7:02 a.m.___

Josh entered Leo's office holding the short note in Margaret's handwriting—apparently dashed off moments after she entered the office. It was never good to get notes from Margaret. It meant whatever the boss wanted couldn't be sent in email. A summons of this sort usually meant something in the early morning papers or TV reports had soured his breakfast. Normally, those same things would give Josh a high blood pressure day as well, but he hadn't caught the morning reports that day. Donna had been exceptionally ill and he hadn't wanted to leave her to get into the office early. For that reason, he was 30 minutes behind his normal schedule and while still early for the normal Washington work day, he was likely late according to Leo's crisis timetable.

Josh entered as he knocked on the casing of the door to find Leo seated behind his desk with his reading glasses on and deep furrows in his brow that were matched in severity only by the taut line of his mouth.

"You wanted to see me," Josh said as he approached the desk.

"Nice of you to show up," Leo said.

"Leo, it's like 7 a.m.," Josh scoffed affably. "And it's a holiday or something someone said. Something about Columbus."

Leo's stony did not change. Josh had expected at least a deflated sigh followed by his name in the form of a mildly scolding shake of the head for his irreverence. This was the typical treatment for his early morning sarcasm from the man, but the non-reaction spoke volumes. There was a problem. A big one.

"What's up?" Josh asked.

"You did it again," Leo said forcefully as he stood suddenly from his chair. "Just when I think you may have actually learned to reign in your mouth, you prove me wrong."

"What?" Josh asked mystified.

"This!" Leo barked and slapped a copy of the _New York Times_ on his desk. "You know, for a smart guy, you really are an idiot some days, Josh. Which makes me the leader of the idiots because you're my guy and I've kept you this long knowing what an idiot you can be!"

Josh dismissed the insults easily. He didn't mind too much when Leo berated his intelligence. Occasionally it was deserved, other times he merely attributed it to him accidentally putting decaf in his mug. What interested Josh more was whatever was the source of the latest bout of ire in the Chief of Staff's world. He scanned the headlines and did not have to go far. On the international page there was a follow up story about the President's recent visit to Germany. A sidebar claimed the President had spent time consulting with a Nazi sympathizer—according to appalled White House staffers. At least, that was the 10 second, inflammatory breakdown of what the first two paragraphs said.

"Leo, the schedule was out there," Josh replied. "It's not a secret that he had a meeting with…"

"I don't mean the actual meeting," Leo said. "Calling the guy a Nazi in a room when it's just you and me is one thing, but this…"

"That's what you think?" Josh snapped. "Leo, I didn't call this reporter."

"No, you didn't have to," Leo seethed. "Your mouth attracts them from long distances."

"I'm saying that…," Josh began but was cut off.

"You've said more than enough," Leo said. "I don't know that I want to even hear your voice for the rest of the week."

The President appeared in the door leading to the Oval Office. Josh turned to face him. He was wearing a dour expression that told Josh all he needed to know about the man's day so far: He'd had a meeting with Leo and read the paper.

"Good morning, Mr. President," Josh said.

"Don't pause on my account," Bartlet replied. "I'm just going to stand here and let Leo beat the hell out of you for a few more minutes. When Leo's done, it's my turn."

"Sir," Josh said.

"No, Josh," the President shook his head. "I don't want to hear it. Not this time."

"Okay, the unnamed source aside," Josh said disregarding his command to remain silent, "it's not like there isn't sufficiently credible information that…"

"Since when do you care about evidence?" Leo asked sternly. "Have you ever even stepped in a court room in your life? No, this isn't about evidence or your allegations. It's about the maelstrom from the press and the European community we're going to have to weather now after your, you know, colossally stupid and possibly libelous remark. So the guy may have a few questionable political leanings and might send his money to support people we wouldn't want to invite to dinner, but that doesn't make him a Nazi. The guy is not Eichmann; he's a college professor."

Josh glared back at Leo, a thousand thoughts swirling in his head along with but one image. It was a series of numbers in small, fine handwriting: 389447. Those numbers were tattooed on Josh's mind in an indelible fashion just like they had been on his grandfather's forearm. All his better judgment said he should take this beating and let Leo and the President cool their heels before he could restate his case in a more rational atmosphere, but those numbers screamed at him and over rode any opportunity to keep quiet.

"My grandfather wasn't thrown into a box car by Eichmann," Josh said simply, his voice as flat as his stare. "It was done by a school teacher—his own neighbor, in fact. The camps were run by shopkeepers and doctors and restaurant owners; the executions and tortures were done by clerks and bankers and accountants and tailors. It was the everyday people who lived in the towns who supervised and ran daily operations at the camps. A well-respected academic decided my entire family and thousands more like us had no right to exist—that we were a sub-race, a scourge—that needed to be massacred and cleansed from the face of the Earth. But it's a five inch story on page 12 of the Times that you find offensive? I understand the storm we could be facing for the next day or so in the media, but you have absolutely no grasp of the real issue here if you think my opinion was wrong or that I'm going to apologize to you or to anyone for that story or my opinion."

Silence filled the room for a few seconds, but was graciously and mercifully broken by the arrival of Margaret who entered. She apologized for the interruption and said Congresswoman Pelosi's office had just called and needed to meet regarding several budget issues.

"She'd like to see Josh right now at Rayburn, if possible," Margaret said. "What should I say?"

"He's on his way," Leo said.

Josh merely nodded and stepped out of the office. He said nothing further and headed for his office to grab his notes.

Bartlet sunk his hands into his pockets and sighed and shook his head. Leo leaned on his desk.

"It's not as simple as he makes it sound," Bartlet said after a moment.

"No," Leo agreed.

"Then why do I feel like I'm the one who should apologize?" Bartlet wondered. "It's two generations before him, but he doesn't forget. How did I?"

"You didn't, sir," Leo said. "Like you said, it's more complicated than that."

"Is it?" Bartlet asked. "I mean, really, for Josh is it? He didn't want me to meet with the guy, but we didn't just ignore his objection did we? This guy's ideas were worthy of our time."

"The European community seems to think so," Leo said.

"But is there a greater good served by making a moral stand?" Bartlet wondered.

"These people are our allies and they're allowed to have their own opinions" Leo offered.

"This is the same community that rounded up people to…," he began.

"No, sir," Leo said. "This isn't 1939 and these are our friends."

"And we've never been friends with bad people," Bartlet remarked. "We were going to catch heat for this somewhere. After the thing in Texas, we should have thought this through better."

The incident with the Texas high school marching band that paraded onto the field waving a Nazi flag and play an anthem preferred by Hitler had caused a small but noticeable ripple in the nation's news cycle several weeks earlier. Much of that was due to the perpetuation of the waves from Rabbi David Schulmann, a potent and powerful voice who was seeing more airtime on the Sunday talk show circuit than a lot of committee chairman in town. Toby and Josh had both spoken with the man and even away from the rabbi's opinions, the two staffers had presented a united front against the meeting with Richter.

"We did think it through, sir," Leo assured him. "We had our answers ready, and it's not like this guy marches around in jackboots or flies the swastika in his front yard."

"Yeah, I recall," Bartlet remarked. "Toby made a remark—he pretended he didn't, but I heard it on the plane—about waiting to be trotted out as the staff's token Jew for the talk shows. We don't use them like that."

"Well, like it or not, Mr. President, we do," Leo said. "He and Josh from the senior staff have been put in front of the camera because of their background in the past. CJ gets it for certain women's issues. Miguel Fernandez at Labor fronts for us on Hispanic issues. We go to Eli Wright and Betty Thompson for certain things that involve African Americans. These are our people and this is part of who they are. We're not ashamed of it and neither are they. You and I both know the Republican's march out their one openly homosexual Congressman whenever there are allegations they're homophobic. Same thing happens to their few black members. It's the nature of our business. After that Jewish Wonder Twins comment one of a certain southern Republican last year, we sent Josh and Toby out every place we could to make the Republicans nervous and muscle some leverage on them for a few things that had nothing to do with the Congressman or his mouth."

Bartlet sighed. He knew how the game was played, but that didn't mean he liked all of it.

"Just when you think we've come far enough to see progress, we are reminded that we perpetuate racism and bias every time we think we are taking measures combat it," the President said solemnly. "Hatred comes with some impressive credentials. We blew this one, Leo."

"If you're worried about Schulman…"

"Yeah, I am," Bartlet said. "What's more so are you, but what I meant was, we got a warning and chose to ignore it. I'm not saying that news article is right. I don't know that Reichter is a Nazi; I don't know what the man truly believes. What I mean is that we didn't listen carefully to our own people and at the very least we should have."

"It got missed is all," Leo said.

"That's not good enough," Bartlet said.

"Yeah," he nodded.

"You'll smooth this thing over?" Bartlet asked.

"We'll see to Schulman," Leo said.

"Josh?"

"He's probably the only one the rabbi will talk to right now," Leo said.

"No, I mean, set it up for me to speak with him about this alone—before the day is done," Bartlet said. "Toby, too. But do it separately."

"Sir, I still want his head on a pike for opening his mouth at the wrong time," Leo said. "You don't owe him an apology for having a meeting, Mr. President."

"Yeah, I do," Bartlet said. "Maybe he didn't earn it, but his family did. Set it up."

Operations Bullpen

11:28 a.m.

Toby walked down the hall with a purposeful stride. He had just had a meeting with Leo and next the President where he received an apology when he was the one expecting to be giving it. What he learned from both men set his temples to pulsing. He didn't like it when people did him favors that he didn't ask for and liked it even less when they covered for him when he wasn't asking for it. Josh had done that on several occasions during their tenure at the White House, but at least in those instances, Toby was in on the meetings where the strategy was forged.

He found his shield standing a fax machine, reading the pages as they were spit out. Toby pointed to Josh's office and signaled that he needed to speak with him alone. Josh nodded and followed him into the dimly lit room and closed the door.

"So I just got an apology from the President," Toby said. "Because you allegedly opened your mouth to a reporter and called Richter a Nazi."

"I heard," Josh replied. Charlie had informed him of Toby's meeting already.

"Imagine my surprise to learn that you were the one who said such a thing," Toby continued. "I say surprise because you and I don't use the same speech patterns and we usually pick very different moments to screw ourselves over. You prefer public venues to shoot off your mouth where any idiot would know they were being watched; whereas I tend to do it in more reserved places when I don't think anyone of consequence is listening. This quote in the Times, it wasn't a public thing."

"I didn't say it," Josh said.

"I know," Toby replied. "And how I know is that I did. Josh, I said it. I'm the one."

"I thought so," Josh nodded as he took his seat.

"And you didn't think to tell Leo?"

"No," Josh said. "I happen to agree with it."

"That's not my point," Toby chuckled in a strained manner. "My point is, why did you let them think it was you all day? What do you have going on that you've set yourself up as the sacrificial lamb?"

"Nothing," Josh replied honestly.

"I don't believe that," Toby said, pacing. "You're looking for a fight—I got that much from the recapping of the history lesson you gave the President and Leo. You've been snapping at Sam and while I'm all for taking his head off when he deserves it, I prefer to be the one doing the beheading. It looks to me like you're either looking for a fight or are practicing some form of self persecution. Why, I have no idea. So I'm just asking you this once: What the hell is going on with you?"

"With me?" Josh said. "Nothing."

_Office of the Deputy Communications Director_

_Wednesday, __10 a.m.___

"Sam?" Donna knocked on his open door.

"Huh?" he replied, not looking up from his reading.

"Got a minute?"

"What?" Sam asked, looking up. He saw his visitor and stood. "Donna. What? Oh, sure. Come in."

"Thanks," she smiled and shut the door.

"You closed the door?"

"Yes."

"I'm just saying, you closed the door, so is something wrong?" Sam removed his glasses and walked around his desk.

"No," Donna assured him. "Nothing's wrong, Sam. I just need to talk to you."

"Okay," he nodded and gestured to a chair.

"Okay," she replied, taking a seat. "Here's the thing..."

"There's a thing?" Sam perched himself on the edge of his desk. "I thought there was no problem."

"There isn't a problem," Donna repeated. "It's a good thing."

"Yeah?" he grinned, knowing what would be said next. "So this means..."

"I want to have a party," Donna stated.

"Well, that's great," Sam's smile widened. "I mean, I was wondering when you were going to do something. But isn't this the kind of thing that someone else plans for you? Not that showing initiative is a bad thing, but I thought that normally someone else would take charge."

"Why would anyone other than me plan this?" she looked at him curiously. "They're not married to him."

"Well..." Sam paused, "I'm sorry? Married to whom?"

"Josh."

"Don't they normally have a party for you?"

"When it's my birthday," Donna answered. "Yes, I'd like to."

"I'm sorry," Sam apologized. "I'm a little lost. What are you talking about?"

"Josh's birthday," Donna explained. "It's this week."

"It is?" Sam twisted to look at his desk calendar. "Oh, yeah. It is. But he doesn't like his birthday--something about a clown, right?"

"Yes," Donna nodded. "But we're not having a clown. I would like to throw together a simple get together with his friends."

"Okay."

"So," Donna hedged, "you're his friend..."

"I'm one of his friends," he declared. "One of his better friends, in fact. His closest one in the building and probably in the District and since he doesn't really leave the general area that often I'd venture that I'm...."

"Sam."

"Yes?"

"Would you help me plan it?" she asked.

"Plan what?" he asked. "The party? Oh...Here's the thing, Josh doesn't come to any party I plan."

"He doesn't?" Donna cocked her head.

"No," Sam shook his head. "It's not that he objects to my plans, it's just that it's kind of like a jinx. Like a few years ago, I had this thing at my place and we were supposed to play golf that morning and well, he couldn't.... Granted, he was in the hospital, but that was just one time. I mean, he missed his own bachelor party which I threw together so you're seeing the pattern, right?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Anyway, you're not the sole person planning this thing. You're just going to help me."

"A helper?" Sam mused. "That I can do. Sam Seaborn's Party Assistance Services is at your... uh... service. What do you need?"

"First, I need a place to have it."

"Okay, I can work on that," Sam replied. He moved around to his chair, pulled out a pad and began jotting down notes. "How many people are you planning on?"

"Perhaps ten, but no more than fifteen."

"So 30," Sam nodded. "Maybe 40. So what day are you looking at?"

"Friday evening at about eight," she replied.

"Is it his night off?"

"Yes."

"Okay, so he'll be free by 9," he scribbled. "Actually, more like 9:30."

"He'll be done by eight, Sam. Count on it," Donna assured him. "I know his assistant."

"Okay then," he looked at her dubiously.

"So you're all set?"

"Let me see," Sam said, reviewing his notes. "You want a place to gather, mingle. Nothing too fancy, I take it? "

"Right," Donna agreed. "This is Josh, so..."

"Right," he continued, "Okay, well..."

A knock on the door interrupted them. President Bartlet appeared in the door holding a leather folder and sporting an expectant expression as he regarded the speech writer.

"Mr. President," Sam stood.

"Hey Sam," Bartlet entered. "Oh hello, Donna. Don't get up."

"Good morning, Mr. President," Donna smiled.

"I'm sorry," Bartlet apologized, "am I interrupting?"

"Not at all, we're just wrapping up," Donna replied, standing.

"We're planning a surprise birthday party for Josh," Sam explained. "It's a surprise, isn't it, Donna?"

"Well, yes."

"So we're working on it," he continued. "I'm helping--not planning--just helping. I'm supposed to find a place where people can gather and mingle and...well, I guess eat cake. You can't have a party without cake, right? Donna, is the President invited? Oh, I suppose I should have found that out before I said he's invited," she smiled, cutting her eyes at the speechwriter. "But I completely understand if you're too busy, Sir. But I will pass on your best wishes if you'd like me to."

"Nonsense," he waved it off. "When is it?"

"This Friday evening."

"You're going to find a place on short notice, Sam?" the President asked.

"Well, now that you mention it," Sam said, "that might prove difficult, but I'd like to think that's why Donna assigned the task to me."

"Right," Bartlet nodded. "Who is on the guest list?"

"So far, you and…. Well, me," Sam said. "I'm invited, right? I'm not just here to work?"

"Yes, you're invited," Donna said, then turned to the President. "We haven't gotten that far yet, sir. It will probably just some people from the office. Nothing big."

"About 30 people," Sam interrupted. "The staff mostly. I mean, Josh knows half the city, but a lot of them don't like him."

Donna turned to eye the speech writer.

"Well, it's true," Sam shrugged and adjusted his glasses. "A lot of them don't."

"Sam," she shook her head.

"Oh, you probably just meant the guest lists is your part," he surmised as she nodded in acquiescence.

"Well, Sam's right and there are a few people in this building who don't put Josh on their Christmas card list," Bartlet said.

"Which is probably a good thing seeing as he's Jewish," Sam noted then looked at the President's flat gaze and apologized quietly. "Very sorry."

"I meant to say that if the crowd isn't too risqué, and you don't mind my meddling, we could gather in the residence," Bartlet offered. "That is, if you wouldn't think it too awkward. It's been a while since the staff had a relaxing evening to enjoy each other's company. I could bake something."

"Oh, Sir, you really don't have to," Donna said. "I mean, it's...it's very, very thoughtful of you but..."

"It might be the only place that keeps Josh from leaving or even refusing to be a part of his own party," Sam smiled. "You're quite a strategist, Mr. President."

"I amaze myself some days, Sam."

"Well," Donna sighed, "Okay. Well, we have the place and Sam's working on the guest list."

"Actually, I was the one mentioning all the people who don't like Josh," Sam offered and again received stares from both. "But the guest list is right up my alley. Indeed."

"The only thing left is the cake," Donna said. "I'll order one and…."

"Nonsense," Bartlet interjected. "I could bake something."

"Sir, aren't you too busy to…," she began.

"I can multitask," he assured her. "I'll have Admiral FitzWallace help me with the measuring and brief me about his take on the Pentagon's latest line items in the budget. Donna, just get the details to Charlie. I take it this little endeavor is to be a surprise?"

"It has to be," Sam nodded in a conspiratorial fashion. "Josh doesn't like birthday parties."

"The clown?" Bartlet wondered"Yes, sir," Donna nodded and somehow made it seen dignified."Okay then," Bartlet turned to leave. "Oh, Sam. We need to talk about the environmental treaty. That's why I'm here. I had a thought. Bring your notes and thoughts from Kyoto to the meeting this afternoon; I'll want to spend some time with you after we're finished with thee Director of the EPA."

"I have faxes to… fax," Donna said as she turned to leave. "Thank you again, Mr. President."

"Any time, Donna," the President smiled. "This is just what he needs. Josh has seemed a bit... well, not completely himself since he came back from North Carolina. This will be good for him."

"Uh, yes," Donna looked away briefly. "We've all been a bit weary lately."

"We've all noticed," Bartlet agreed. "This will good for everyone. CJ should be back on solid food by then. Yes, this will be an event. Come to think of it, Sam, you'll need to write me a toast. You know…something appropriate and embarrassing."

"Yes, Mr. President."

_Josh's Office_

_Thursday, __noon___

"Donna, what's this?" Josh asked as she came into his office with their lunch.

"It looks like a piece of paper," she explained, setting the cartons down on his desk.

"It's a guest list," he explained. "For a surprise party. For me."

"It's a...a what?"

"Guest list for the surprise party you and Sam are planning for my birthday," Josh reiterated.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Donna said quickly.

"Well, here," he pointed, "across the top in Sam's handwriting it says '_Guest List for Josh's Surprise Birthday Party'_ and on the bottom it says to _RSVP to Donna by __noon__ today_."

"It says that?" she asked, taking the paper from him.

"Yeah," he grabbed his lunch.

"Damn," she winced then watched him unwrap the sandwich. "That's mine."

"It's all the same stuff."

"Yes, but mine has mayo on it."

"Ick," he tossed the carton towards her and took the other.

"Sam can be so smart on some occasions and others..." she sighed.

"Yeah," Josh agreed. "Call it off."

"No."

"Yes."

"I can't," Donna said.

"Why not?"

"Because it's out of my hands now."

"Tell everyone that a pipe burst at the house and the place is a mess," Josh offered.

"It's not going to be held at the house," Donna replied.

"You rented a place?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Donna, you know how I don't like birthday par..."

"It's in the Residence," she blurted.

"You just said it wasn't at the house," he said confused. He was becoming conditioned to her slightly more advanced flightiness in the last week or two but did not mention it, figuring it was a side effect of what he was only able to call _the process_. "Which is it?"

"Yes," she nodded. "It's not at _our_ house. It's in _this_ house. The White House."

"Fine, then I can call it off," he grabbed his phone. "I run this place."

"Not so much, no," she shook her head and took a quick bite of her sandwich as she eyed him cautiously.

"No," he sighed and dropped the phone before pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yes."

"How the hell..."

"He came by," Donna interrupted, "when Sam and I were talking and he sort of..."

"Never mind," Josh held up his hand. "I know how that works. Damn."

"I'm sorry," Donna apologized. "I just wanted to do something nice for you."

"You don't have to," Josh said softly.

"I do," she countered. "You needed something to be happy about."

"I'm happy," he scowled. "I'm a happy person. I don't need a reason or a party."

"Then I need something to be happy about and this was going to make me happy," she sniffled.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"Let's just..." she sighed. "Let's just go there and celebrate your birthday. You will be around your friends wishing you well. That's a good reason to have a party."

"Can't we think of another reason?" Josh asked.

"No."

"It's not someone else's birthday?" he continued.

"I'm sure somewhere in America there are other people who are having a birthday just like you," Donna explained.

"I mean here," Josh clarified. "In this building. There has to be or it would be just ridiculous; 1300 people work here. Someone else must have a birthday this week."

"You oversee them," Donna smirked. "You should know."

"I'm checking personnel records," Josh stood and began to leave.

"I'm gonna eat your chips," Donna said as she popped a couple in her mouth.

"You're not supposed to eat stuff that's ba...." he stopped. "Sure."

"You have a meeting on the Hill in half an hour," Donna pointed out as she took a bite of her sandwich and tore open the pilfered back of chips.

"Okay, here's what we're gonna do," Josh grabbed his coat. "You find some other reason for the... Ah ha! That's it. That's why we don't go. It's simple, but I think it works. Yes."

"Brilliant idea?" she asked, taking a sip of her water.

"I know about it so it's not a surprise party, so the whole thing is blown," Josh grinned. "Tell them that since I know the fun is gone and you're canceling. That should work. I actually have to meet Katz before my meeting so try to leave some of my lunch. Okay? Great."

"Josh..." she sighed, watching him leave. "It's not going to work."

Her words disappeared as quickly as he had. Whether he heard her or not she did not know. Chances were that even if he had he hadn't listened. He would be obstinate about not going to the party; she planned to be equally adamant that he would. It was anyone's guess who would win the battle of wills, though with the President playing quasi host, Donna thought the odds were in her favor. Rather than think about it further, she sighed in the relative quiet of the office.

Donna remained in the office and finished Josh's lunch along with hers then later wished she hadn't. Both meals sat on her stomach like a rock. Luckily, the afternoon was busy and kept her moving and gave her little time to think about the queasy feeling that followed her after the meal. She didn't think it was morning sickness. She was no expert on such things, but she thought it was unlikely. She also didn't want to ponder the possibility. To do so would mean acknowledging this part of the process had arrived. Anything that reminded her of what she was never to have and what was going to happen any time soon brought on horrible dark feelings of despair for her that she found it best to avoid the subject entirely.

The day wore on and Donna felt her energy beginning to ebb greatly. Josh's meeting was running late, as she looked at her watch, and she had begun rescheduling other appointments on his calendar to compensate. By 3 p.m., she was beat and found herself sitting in his office organizing files but not recalling what she was reading just moments after putting the jacket down. Focusing as a difficult task lately. She was forcing herself to concentrate hard on the task in front of her. The result was that she never heard the visitor arrive until after she was standing beside Donna.

"Hello?" Abbey Bartlet said in a manner that let Donna know it was not the first time she had spoken. "Donna?"

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Bartlet," Donna slowly stood to greet the First Lady. "I'm sorry. I was wrapped up in…. What can I do for you?"

"No, don't stand," she replied. "Have a seat. Has Josh gone to the Hill?"

"Yes Ma'am," Donna replied, returning to her seat. "He had to meet Congressman Katz and Senator Cummings. Is they're something I can help you with? A message you'd like me to pass onto him?"

"No," Abbey said, closing Josh's door. "I was actually looking for you. I wanted to talk with you in private for a moment."

"Okay," Donna said slowly.

Abbey perched herself on the edge of Josh's desk and took stock of Donna's appearance as well as the lunch on the desk.

"How are you?" Abbey asked.

"I'm fine, Ma'am," Donna answered. "How are you?"

"Great," she smiled. "I just got back from Ghana you know. A week in Ghana and Kenya and a week in Europe. That's feels like a long time."

"The President must be glad to have you back," Donna noted.

"Not really," Abbey shook her head. "It means he can't have whatever he wants for dinner now. So anyway, I thought it was time I catch up with you."

"With me?"

"Yes. How are you?"

"I'm fine."

"Sleeping okay?" the doctor continued her inquisition.

"Fine, ma'am," Donna answered.

"Everything okay at home?" Abbey asked. "I know that Josh is a pain in the ass here in the office; I can't image it gets much better at home. But everything is going well between you?"

"We're fine," Donna assured her in a cautious tone, feeling like there was something dangerous on the horizon.

"You know we care about both of you, don't you? The President and I and your friends."

"Yes ma'am," Donna said. "Mrs. Bartlet, I'm not nearly as good at determining the reason for a fishing expedition, as Josh calls it, but I know one when it's going on. So, pardon me if this is overly blunt: What's going on?"

"See," Abbey began, "when you got married and I heard the whole 'the office is the office' play you and Josh were going to run around this place, I said they're both nuts; I thought you'd never make it work. But you've managed it—quite well in fact. I didn't think you could, but you have. Too well, I think. Half the people in this building think it's just a rumor that you're married. But those of us who know you know differently. You know we care for you both and we know you're married and that's not a problem for us, right?"

"We didn't think was a problem," Donna said, feeling nervous about the direction of the conversation.

"It's not," the First Lady assured her. "I'm just checking on you. You know that you're allowed to have lives outside this building and from time to time that is going to cross that imaginary barrier you've erected between your married and working lives, right?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Donna agreed. "There are times where our personal lives will cross with our professional lives, especially at social functions. Are you saying that something's coming up that will disrupt that?"

"Oh, I would expect so."

"Well, I…. What ever it is, I can fix it," Donna said quickly. "We can… Oh god, you're telling me because you think I can break the news better to Josh."

"If Josh doesn't know this already, he has no business helping run this country," Abbey said firmly.

"What is it?"

"Donna, you're pregnant," Abbey pointed out. "Aren't you?"

"I..." Donna paused as her jaw hung open. She blinked several times and slouched in her chair, wanting to hide behind it. After a moment of guilty silence, she spoke quietly. "How did you know?"

Abbey laughed at the look of confusion on the assistant's face.

"Mrs. Bartlet?"

"Donna," Abbey chuckled. "I'm a doctor and a woman and a mother. I also have eyes which is all I need to figure this mystery out."

"You're the only one who has then," Donna pointed out.

"Well, the staff is focused on other things and I'm frankly surprised their clothes match when they come into work some days," Abbey reasoned. "Josh knows?"

"Yes," Donna lowered her head.

"Am I prying?" Abbey asked. "Donna, I'm asking you this because I'm worried. When I first noticed, I thought you were keeping things quiet for the first trimester. But must be near or just passed that point by now, aren't you?"

"Yes Ma'am," Donna said painfully but refusing to break down.

"How far?" Abbey asked. "That is if I'm not prying too much. I'd estimate between 15 and 18 weeks."

"Next week would be 14," Donna said softly.

"Would be?"

"We're not there yet," Donna said stiffly.

"I see," Abbey wrinkled her nose as she looked at Donna again. "I guess I'm just losing my touch. But that's not the point. You do know that normally after 12 weeks it's generally okay to pass around the news. I'm saying this because your news doesn't appear to be general knowledge around here."

"No, ma'am," Donna said stiffly. "We haven't said anything yet."

"You and Josh? This was a joint decision?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"I'm asking because I was afraid that perhaps this baby was not good news," Abbey explained. "The way you seem to be acting is not what I would expect. Don't get me wrong, I love Josh like a member of my family—a sarcastic, overbearing, high maintenance member, but family no less. I also know that his sense of duty to this job and this administration knows no bounds. I was worried that perhaps he was pushing the 'office is the office' too far."

"No, it's not like that at all," Donna assured her. "It's just that..."

"Donna?"

"You're right," Donna replied softly as her throat tightened. "It's not a good thing."

Donna heard the words tumble out of her mouth and knew she could not stop the rest. She had been fighting with her mother in recent days about her decision to let her body take its course. Her mother had suggested what Josh had when she first gave him the news. Her mother, for all her good intentions, did not understand Donna's reasoning any better than Donna suspected Josh did. She felt quite alone for that reason. She wanted to someone to hear her point and agree with her and she wasn't sure why. Before she realized it, she had told the First Lady the entire saga.

"Oh Donna," Abbey soothed, petting her hand comfortingly. "Who is your doctor?"

"Fiona White," Donna wiped a tear away as she finished the tale.

"I know Fiona," Abbey nodded. "She was head of obstetrics at John's Hopkins for 10 years. She's excellent."

"I know, but we both know I'm just a science project here, Donna said. "There's nothing that can be done."

"You considered all your options?" Abbey asked in a clinical fashion.

"I chose this," Donna said simply.

"Then that was the best choice," Abbey said. "It's whatever you think is right, Donna. Now, I can see for myself, but I'll ask anyway: How are you dealing with this?"

"One day at a time," Donna shrugged. "I haven't really altered anything in my life. I go on as if there's… nothing going on."

"You know they have counseling services for families with reproductive issues," Abbey pointed out.

"I'm fine," Donna lied. "I have my mother and I have Josh."

"How is he dealing with this?" Abbey asked. "Or is he?"

"He's... dealing."

"Donna, I've known Josh for a few years now," Abbey reminded her. "I know how he is. Repression can be his middle name sometimes."

"I know," Donna concurred. "But that's Josh. I can't change him."

"I know that," Abbey replied, "but it's not healthy for him or you. Are you talking to each other about this?"

"We talk."

"But about this?"

"Sometimes," Donna admitted.

"What does that mean?" Abbey pressed.

"Should the subject arise," Donna paused, "we deal with it and move on."

"In the morning, he asks how you feel and you say everything is fine," Abbey concluded.

"Yes," Donna nodded. "He tells me to sit when I come in his office."

"Donna, that's not enough," the First Lady disagreed. "And you're going to have to deal with this more directly."

"I mean no disrespect, Ma'am, but I'm dealing with all I can deal with right now," Donna sighed. "The end is in sight and once that is over, we can grieve and move on."

"So long as it is a secret and no one else knows," Abbey said. "But that's not going to work much longer."

"Well, this won't last much longer," Donna said petulantly, sorry she had opened her mouth at all.

"Maybe not, but people are starting to notice, Donna," Abbey said. "You're going to get the question soon. These people may be focused on their jobs, but they are not blind. And more importantly, they're your friends. They are going to notice and ask you and what you tell them is your business, but you are going to have to say something."

"I was hoping it wouldn't go that far," she said softly.

"I believe it was Josh who was quoted during one of the campaigns as saying that hope is not a course of action," the First Lady countered. "On that, I agree with him. Consider this: it might be good for you to let people know. You have a lot of support here. We're your family. A big, sprawling, dysfunctional family. We care for you, Donna. If there is anything we can do to make things easier, we'll do it. I want you to believe that. We care about you and we are here for you--for both of you."

Donna thanked her. They sat quietly for a few moments until the door opened inward suddenly. Josh stood there mystified at the two women cloistered in his office.

"Mrs. Bartlet?" he asked with a quizzical look. "What are you...?" Is something wrong?"

"No," Donna replied. "I was about to tell Mrs. Bartlet about the party tomorrow night."

"Donna?" Josh asked, seeing through her lie easily.

"Actually, I was here to see Donna but now that you're here, I have a bone to pick with you as well," Abbey said. "Josh, I read your suggestions for the next round of cuts in the budget. My office thanks you for leaving Head Start and Planned Parenthood alone; however we will be talking about…."

"Ma'am, 345 is not going to make it out of committee and there's nothing anyone can do to change that so there's no point in allocating funds," he said instantly. "Everyone in this building agrees with me."

"I'm in this building," she replied.

"Okay, then everyone who works in this side of the building," he stated.

"We'll be talking," she promised as she patted him on the arm as she began to exit. "I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Uh, I think we're canceling tomorrow night," Josh disagreed."No, you're not," Abbey winked. "The President wants to pretend he baked a cake. He's not going to, but he wants to enjoy the thought that he might. However, I make no promises about rumors that he plans sing Happy Birthday to you in Middle English. See you both tomorrow evening."

She departed and left the door open in her wake. Josh watched her leave and shook his head. Budget battles with the First Lady and her staff were never enjoyable, even when he won. Part of him worried that her staff had small voodoo dolls in his likeness poised and ready for when the debates got intense.

"Sorry," Donna apologized as she prepared to leave the office and return to her desk. "I don't think we can get out of it."

"Middle English?" Josh remarked, turning to Donna. "Yeah, we're canceling."

"Josh..."

"No, Donna," Josh cut her off. "That is cruel and inhuman punishment. We tell people that he wants to do that and no one will show. Hey, that might be a good idea..."

"Josh."

"Yeah?"

"She knows," Donna confessed.

"Yeah, she lives with him," he agreed. "I'm fairly certain he was bragging to her that he'd do it."

"No, Josh," she shook her head. "I mean _she knows._"

"She knows?" he repeated and looked up at her with a knowing expression.

"She knows..." Donna said and crossed her arms over her slightly distended showing midsection.

"Uh..." he stammered, "um... how?"

"Because she's a woman and notices things," Donna sighed.

"What's that got to do with...?" he stopped. "Look, can we talk about this later... not here?"

Donna nodded stiffly then left his office.

_Lyman House_

_Thursday, __10 p.m.___

Donna lay in bed, reading. She was also trying to stay awake for when Josh came home. After a long shower earlier in the evening, Donna knew that the First Lady was correct. The pregnancy, complicated as it was, was not going to stay hidden for much longer.

Donna heard the door to the house open and close. She hoped that Josh wouldn't go straight to his office – as he occasionally would do when coming home from the White House. She was pleased when she heard his footsteps ascend the staircase immediately after locking up for the night.

"Hey," Josh said. "You're still up. It's late."

"I was waiting for you," Donna smiled, placing the book on the nightstand.

"Miss me that much?" he smirked.

"I saw you seven hours ago," she reminded him.

"And you've been pining every since," Josh replied, stripping off his tie.

"Right."

Josh continued removing his clothing as he went into the bathroom. He started telling Donna about his last meeting of the evening with Toby – a strategy for the upcoming education reform discussions.

"So in the end," he emerged from the bathroom, ready for bed, "we just said screw it, let's do what Toby proposed three hours ago and that was that."

"So you would've been home earlier had you listened to Toby," Donna concluded.

"Well, that's one way to look at it," Josh crawled into bed and kissed her.

"Josh," Donna sighed. "We need to talk."

"Hey, I can't always just agree with Toby because it makes the day shorter," Josh argued as he crawled into the bed and lay his head back and closed his eyes.

"You can't sleep yet," Donna ordered.

"I can't?"

"No."

"I think I could," he yawned. "I'm tired."

"Not yet," she disagreed.

"I'm not tired yet?"

"Josh," she started again. "We have to talk."

"You wanted to talk to me about something," Josh remembered.

"I do," Donna nodded.

"Okay," Josh turned to face her.

"We have to talk about this," Donna placed her hand on her abdomen.

"Okay," he said tensely.

"I think we need to tell the staff," she replied.

"Tell them what?" Josh asked.

"That I'm pregnant."

"Why?" he questioned. "I thought you didn't want to tell anyone because you'll... I mean.... you know..."

"I know, I know," Donna sighed. "But Josh, Mrs. Bartlet made a good point this afternoon."

"She did?"

"Yes," Donna nodded. "I mean, she noticed right away. She didn't say anything at first because she was heading to Africa, but she sought me out after she returned. And she said that if she noticed it wouldn't take much more for the rest of the staff to notice."

"They might not," Josh countered.

"They will," she disagreed. "I can't carry those binders around too much longer. And I can only wear certain clothing that's...forgiving for so much longer either. So... when do you want to tell them?"

"Me?" Josh sat up. "It's up to you. If you want to do it quickly, just tell Margaret and everyone will know by 10 a.m."

"It's up to both of us," Donna said firmly. "You're in this as well. And I don't want to tell them via the White House grapevine."

"She's efficient."

"She's nosy," Donna huffed. "I don't want it to be done that way. It's cheap."

"Whatever you decide is fine with me," Josh laid back down. "But what are you going to tell them? Everything? I thought the reason you didn't want anyone to know is because you didn't want pity because that would make you feel worse."

"We're only going to say that we're expecting," Donna replied. "We don't have to tell them we're expecting the worst."

"If that's what you want," Josh acquiesced.

"What I want can't happen," she said sadly.

"I... Sorry."

"Stop it," Donna requested, caressing his cheek. "Stop saying you're sorry. You haven't done anything wrong and you can't fix this. I can't fix this. Whatever happens… happens."

"Yeah," Josh sighed. "I know. So we tell people."

"We have to," Donna nodded. "What do you think we should say and who do we tell?"

"Just tell whoever you want," he replied. "Everyone else will know pretty quickly after that."

"Well then, how about tomorrow night?" Donna asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Why not just get it over with at the party?" Donna inquired.

"The party?" he repeated. "That wasn't the reason you did this, was it?"

"No," Donna shook her head. "I wanted to celebrate your birthday that was all."

"Okay," Josh put up his hand. "I didn't mean to accuse you. I was just.... It's just strange how it happened. That's all."

"It's one less thing that I can be stressed about," Donna reasoned, turning off the bed lamp. She settled in for the night next to Josh.

"Donna?"

"Hmm?"

"You're absolutely certain about this?" Josh asked. "'Cause once we tell them, that's it."

"I'll handle it—I have no choice," Donna replied. "Go to sleep, Josh."

"Yeah," Josh said, suddenly not tired.

Up next: Chapter 17: **Judas and Brutus**


	17. Judas and Brutus

**Title: Heaven and Hell:** **_Judas and Brutus _(Chapter 17)**

**Authors**: Enigmatic Ellie and Westwinger247

**Webpage**: 

**Email:** or 

_The White House_

_Presidential Residence,_

_Friday, __9:48 p.m.__—_

The invited guests stood and sat around the room and listened with rapt attention as the President drew toward the end of his birthday toast/roast of the guest of honor.

"… to which Josh swiftly yet casually replied: Only if you want to do it backwards, sir," the President said, chuckling slightly at his final anecdote. "I think you'll agree that it was the 'sir' part that made it not only a thing of beauty but also the only thing that kept me from firing him."

Josh stood to the President's left—his preferred position as there was a doorway just feet away that let him believe there was a chance for escape—and took his beating like a good birthday boy must. He never liked there to be any notice of his birthday. His reasons were private and personal and had nothing to do with age or entertainers with red noses and big shoes. Sure, there was the whole childish thing about the clown, but that was more of an annoyance that he never could shake. The truth was that after his sister died, the day lost all its excitement for him. It had always been her job to keep him occupied during the day until it was time for presents and cake and guests. She had been good at it—making up games and make-believe adventures to keep him busy so that he didn't pester his parents and wind up grounded before the candles were even out of the package. He had looked forward to her distractions as much as anything on those days. The first year without her had been too quiet even though his parents had taken him to Long Island to see his cousins for a big party in his honor. He'd spent the day away from most of the guests, sitting alone with his grandfather on the front porch listening to stories about life before World War II. On that day, Josh had made a wish when he was forced to face his cake and candles: No more birthdays. As usual, the birthday fairy didn't come through for him.

In the years since that day, only two others had been particularly hard. The first was the year he was officially older than his sister ever was. That thought struck him as he watched the candles flicker on his cake while his parents sang—well, mostly his mother as his father's musical ability consisted of turning on a radio—and soured any chance of joy the day or his gifts might have brought that year. The next was the first birthday after his father passed away. He had lucked out that the day fell during the final sprint of the first run for the White House and no one knew or recalled it was his birthday—that is until Donna showed up with a Twinkie and a candle just before midnight as he and Toby finished going over the latest polls with Leo and the candidate. He had managed to forget—that is, after his mother's call—what day it was. But once reminded at the close of the day the loneliness that often followed him into the darkness appeared. Josh had retired to the hotel room that was serving as his home not long after extinguishing the candle and giving the Twinkie to Toby; he had laid on his bed for the next several hours thinking of the dust-covered golf clubs in his apartment in Georgetown. They were an extraordinary and elite-priced set that had been used only once before—two years earlier when his father had given them to him as a birthday gift on their annual outing. While Josh was in high school, he and his father had developed a tradition of playing golf the Sunday immediately proceeding Josh's birthday. It was a thing that men did together and a time they could spend together celebrating the day without Josh's mother making anyone wear an asinine hat or leaving lip stick marks on Josh's cheek from her kisses—something which he was required in his adulthood to show annoyance with whether it truly bothered him or not.

It had been a good tradition—one he considered passing on to his own son some day. That thought bit him sharply. He hadn't ever seriously considered the possibility of having a son. It was one of those things that breezed through his mind and was considered a thing for the future and nothing to worry about or ponder for too long. But it was in his mind now. It was there because it was not going to happen. Josh knew all about disappointment and loss and the impossible. He knew those concepts well and personally, but he was finally tired with the familiarity. He was tired with a lot of things and keeping his face from showing that was making him even wearier. Carrying this burden was taking a hefty toll, he knew but it was his alone to carry at this point. He was surrounded by people who called themselves his friends and yet as he listened to the President continue to embarrass him in front of the crowded room, Josh felt more alone that ever before in his life.

He hid this and knew he was doing it well. Other than the occasional knowing glance from the First Lady, Josh was certain everyone in the room believed the biggest worry in his world was the finalization of the budget (something that would be sewn up in the next week) and the abuse his ego was taking at this party. He looked around the room for Donna, who had slipped out when the cake was served as anything sweet was apt to turn her stomach this week. Josh tried not to notice such things and pretend all was normal, but it was impossible. He was more observant than even his wife gave him credit for being. What he was good at was repressing his feelings and faking normalcy. He was extraordinarily good at that—too good his therapists often noted. But he was certain that his reasons this time had nothing to do with his own hang-ups and self-described mental short-comings. No, this time he was doing this for Donna. She was the one truly suffering and all he could do was be strong for her and not give her any reason to feel any worse than she did—both emotionally or physically. It pained him he could do nothing more. Any show of sympathy he offered brought a flash of tears to her eyes and sent her scurrying into another room in the house. She also cried in her sleep; the soft weeping woke him each time and left him feeling more useless than every before in his life.

"Don't get me wrong; he's a good man, our Josh," Bartlet continued, clapping Josh warmly on the shoulder, snapping his attention back to the never-ending toast. "Whether that is despite or because of all that I've just mentioned is for someone other than me to decide. I, however, wouldn't change him for the world… Except perhaps those moments that nearly give Leo a stroke and send my approval ratings into the basement."

The crowded chuckled as the President wrapped up his speech and eventually got around to wishing his Deputy Chief of Staff a happy birthday. During the brief applause, Josh watched Donna slip back into the room unnoticed. She looked no waner than when she left and offered a phony smile to those around her which no one seemed to question. Josh felt the President's hand on his elbow and was given an instruction to give a short speech of his own. He didn't think it proper as the President was no one's opening act—least of all his—but when the Commander-in-Chief gave an order, he wasn't permitted to ignore it.

He cleared his throat and grimaced at the task.

"Well, thank you, Mr. President; thank you all, for…. mortifying me," Josh said flatly as he nodded. "I especially like the little plastic clown guys standing guard around the cake. The insensitive and cruel mocking of my childhood hang-ups is a heart-warming touch, really."

"It was CJ's idea," Sam offered from the back of the room.

"Yeah, I figured that," Josh said. "The one that's face-down drowning in the icing reminded me of this fun thing she did on a little trip to North Carolina we took a few weeks ago. Stop me if you've heard this one."

Donna stood at the rear of the room and marveled again at how calm and at ease Josh seemed in this setting. Only he could joke so blithely about nearly dying during the hurricane without making anyone else in the room uncomfortable. It often worried her that he was a master at hiding his pain. Though so many in this room had seen or knew well about one of his breaking points, none seemed to even suspect he was navigating through a personal hell yet again. Still, it also impressed her on some level. He was strong, stronger than he even knew and that helped her more than she could tell him. Instead, she smiled at him, genuinely, as he offered his thanks for the gathering while at the same time deriding the entire notion of it. He was a pro at handling rocky situations; she had stood in awe of that from the beginning. He took in stress like some people took vitamins. He could thrive on it for long periods. She knew he was hurting inside, waiting for the inevitable, but she appreciated his agreement to not coddle her. She would take his sympathy after it was over; she would need it, but not before. She felt that would drag out the agony and she wanted to spare both him and herself that.

"So let me just say thank you, to President Bartlet for hosting this gathering and for his kind words which made no effort to spare my ego," Josh said and grinned expertly as though he meant it and was enjoying the gathering. "And thank you to Sam Seaborn, who I vow to payback for this in the very near future. And thanks to all of you for standing here and gladly enjoying my agony. For this kind of abuse, I normally have to pay a visit to the Hill during budget negotia…"

Josh's words trailed off as his cellphone trilled.

"Saved by the cell," he quipped as he snapped it off his belt quickly and looked at the LCD. It was the call he had been waiting and hoping for all week---the chief of staff of the last crucial swing vote for the budget negotiations. Josh looked up and snapped his fingers in Toby's direction. The two quickly ducked out of the room.

"Yes, well, the best do always leave you wanting more," Sam said, stepping into the center of the room to act as a director. "I'm guessing Josh and Toby are about to make all our lives easier or infinitely harder. So let's hope for the best and enjoy the rest of the evening. Oh, and if you haven't had any, try the cake. The President didn't make it, but he did care enough to order the very best."

The crowd gave Sam sparse applause as he trailed out of the room in search of Josh and Toby and news on the budget discussions. The rest of the crowd stayed, as commanded, and milled out the large rooms, spending a few moments of civility. These moments were rare enough. Though the White House put up a nice façade of being all one team the truth was much closer to that of any office. People wanted advancement and often times the only way to get it was to go over and sometimes through those around them. It was a competitive atmosphere that made few concessions for feelings or fair-play.

Donna stifled a yawn and tried to look invisible as she avoided those approaching her with plates weighted down with cake and frosting. She had learned a few weeks earlier that morning sickness would not reserve itself to mornings only and absolutely nothing was sacred in this matter. Dessert was always something she looked forward too, especially if it was prepared by Rouilland—the White House pastry chef—and was as disgusted as she was disappointed when two weeks earlier sweet and sugary flavors and scents began turning her green.

"No cake?" Abbey Bartlet asked as she approached Donna.

"I'm fine," Donna said and averted her eyes from the plates around her as she folded her arms and slouched slightly. "Thank you, Ma'am."

"I understand," Abbey said softly. "You're holding up well—almost better than Josh."

"It's been a long week," Donna said casually, not wanting to break into tears in this venue. "I think I might be going. I have some…"

"Stay," Abbey said, and placed a hand on her arm. "Josh will be back soon. I think the phone call is going well. You may as well wait for him. He may need saving if the President is inspired to give another toast."

"It was very kind of you and the President to host this," Donna said gratefully. "We appreciate it. Well, I do. Josh…. He does, but… Not really actually."

"He was trooper," Abbey said with a grin. "I know how much he detests these things. How is everything else?"

From her tone and the look in her eye, Donna knew precisely what she meant.

"We've decided we'll say something," Donna answered quietly. "We were… Or I was going to do it today, but everything was so busy and so I decided tonight would be better, but I don't want it to be a formal sort of thing. I just wanted to let a few people know in person so that…. You were right, Ma'am. People are noticing—no one who works here, but even the woman at the bagel place asked."

"The whole truth?"

"I'm sorry?" Donna asked then divined her meaning. "Oh, no. Ma'am, I couldn't handle that. The sympathy will only make me feel worse and I don't want to explain my choice to anyone. It's too hard. I know it's like lying, but…"

"We kept the President's health from 280 million people and only our enemies fault us," Abbey pointed out. "What makes you comfortable is the right thing right now."

"Thank you," Donna said softly. "I was hoping to do this soon but now that Josh is tied up, I don't know. Maybe I'll just tell Margaret. Josh said that will get it done quickly enough."

Abbey shook her head as CJ arrived while carrying two flutes of champagne. Word was spreading that the necessary swing votes were now virtually locked and the feared knock-down drag-out battle would be avoided. It was a minor victory, but it meant the government would stay in business, there would be no need to pass a continuing resolution and the next battle could now be planned. CJ spied a glass already in the First Lady's hand then offered the spare glass to Donna.

"Here," CJ said, her jaw still slightly stiff from the recently removed wiring. "Leo's on a conference call with FEMA; tornado outbreaks in Missouri an hour ago. Looks like only a few injuries, but a hell of a mess. We should enjoy the moment while we can—the district directors are getting territorial again. I've haven't fully recovered from my last brush with the furry of nature and red tape the follows. Help me out with this."

Abbey nodded slowly and offered Donna an expression that let her know that she should use this opportunity.

"Thanks, but I can't," Donna said and looked quickly at the First Lady. "It's… uh… It's not good for my condition."

"Oh, right," CJ nodded then turned back to face her. "Wait. What condition?"

"Uh, I'm… pregnant," Donna said, hoping her voice wasn't as shaky as she feared.

"Pregnant?" CJ repeated with a gasp. "As in with a baby?"

"Do you know of another way?" Abbey interjected. "I'm a doctor and I can't think of any other usage for the word."

"I don't….," CJ stammered. "I… Wow. Uh… How? I mean, I know how, but… When did this…Or when are you…?"

"You're sort of the first person I've told since I told Josh," Donna said. "Oh, and Sam."

"I am?" CJ asked, gleeful at the thought she was finally not the last to know something. "So no one else except Josh and Sam know?"

"Well, and Mrs. Bartlet," Donna said, glad the First Lady was there as she did this. "Oh, and my mother and my brother."

"But no one else?" CJ asked then laughed triumphantly. "This is great news. And for you as well."

"I don't…," Donna began, befuddled by CJ's pleasure. "What are you…?"

"Nothing," CJ said quickly. "Uh, congratulations. This is… surprising."

"Oh, it's something," Donna said, forcing a smile onto her face.

CJ grinned; unsure what else she should say though she was now wondering how she hadn't picked up on obvious signs previously. Looking at Donna, she could see the formerly lithe silhouette was changed in a not so subtle manner. This also explained her nearly constant look of exhaustion and Josh's odd outbreak of sensibility where his assistant's schedule was concerned. Donna could rarely be found at the office past 7 p.m. any longer and was not often found at her desk before 8 a.m.

"I'll say it's something," CJ continued.

The President wandered into their sphere, locked in conversation with Sam about the fine art of observation; they appeared to be discussing fine art, though from the look on Sam's face he was no longer certain.

"I, myself, am a keen observer of details great and small," Bartlet said. "It's not a question of intelligence so much as it is a question of selective focus."

"Did your keen selective focus notice that Donna's pregnant?" Abbey asked, sparing Donna the pain of saying the words again.

"She is?" Bartlet beamed then turned to Donna. "You are?"

"Yes, sir," Donna said.

"Another theory joins Galileo in the great beyond," Abbey said, quickly gripping Donna's hand for a moment to let her know she was doing well.

"And the other good news is that I'm not the last to know," CJ offered again with a giggle of delight. "Maybe they don't compare in the grand scheme, but in my world this is huge."

"Now, wait just a minute," Bartlet said as he observed his Press Secretary's mirth. "Why am I just hearing about this now? Why does CJ know this before I do?"

"Well, sir, I think it was just a thing," Sam explained. "You see, we were all...."

"You don't seem surprised, Sam," Bartlet noted. "Why?"

"Because I knew," Sam said. "Before CJ."

"And before me?" Bartlet asked with a more stern tone.

"Yes, sir," Sam replied and sounded guilty. "But that's mostly Donna's doing because she told me."

"You want me to blame Donna?" Bartlet asked. "I'm not blaming a pregnant woman, Sam. That's bad politics."

"Well, you could blame Josh," Sam offered quickly.

"He's not even in the room," CJ pointed out.

"Which begs the questions why?" Bartlet asked as he looked around in search of him. "He should be here for this. I mean, I just gave… I stood there and gave that toast and he never even… Oh, you're damn right I'm blaming him. Where is he?"

"With Toby," Sam said as he signaled to Leo who entered the room with a dour expression and deep worry wrinkles in his brow. "They're locking up Manning's vote."

"That's no excuse," Bartlet said excitedly as he turned to face Leo. "And what do you have to say about this?"

"What is there to say?" Leo replied with thoughts of FEMA and the disaster declarations hitting the fax machine on his mind. He was in for a long and tedious weekend of infighting for the sake of infighting.

"So you know?" Bartlet asked. "They told you?"

"Yeah, I just got it in the hall," Leo replied, wondering why it was that natural disasters liked to hit just before weekends.

"Josh?"

"He gave me all the details," Leo said.

"Well, I learned about it second-hand from my wife," Bartlet continued. "And CJ knew before I did. Honestly, Leo. There are things I feel I should know first—at least before CJ."

"I agree, sir," Leo sighed, wondering how Abbey Bartlet knew about the FEMA territorial feud. "The whole thing is a colossal screw up, and I promise you that we will straighten it out."

"A screw up?" Bartlet echoed with confusion. "Leo, it's wonderful. How can you say...."

"It's a natural disaster, Mr. President," Leo answered. "How is that wonderful?"

"Well, I agree Josh does have his moments and were I prone to ulcers, he would not have lasted long on staff, but I think calling the baby a natural disaster is overstating the ramifications a bit," Bartlet proclaimed.

"Jed," Abbey interrupted quietly. "Leo doesn't know what you're talking about; no one's told him this news yet."

"You're not talking about the tornados?" Leo asked.

"Certainly not," Bartlet replied—he had been brief by Ken Sussman (one of Josh's deputies) on the essential details of the weather stories several minutes earlier.

"Then what are you talking about?" Leo asked.

"Well, if you don't know then perhaps it's not my place to tell you," Bartlet said haughtily as Josh and Toby could be heard approaching from down the hall. "Your staff doesn't keep you well informed, do they? I'm not sure how that makes me feel, but as I know more than you in this circumstance, I'll let it slide."

"Oh for god's sake, will someone please let me know what's going on?" Leo growled. At that moment, Josh and Toby appeared in the doorway bickering in a friendly fashion.

"Look, I know you're mad," Josh said.

"I'm not," Toby grumbled.

"I think you're mad because I'm brilliant," Josh said.

"No, you're mad, the idea was brilliant," Toby replied.

"Actually, it's more of a concept," Josh corrected him then noted the group immediately in front of them staring. "Leo, Manning is on board. We'll lose some ground on the clean water amendments we are going for in the spring, but it's the best we could do. We saved just about everything else on the table. Oh, by the way, the governor of Kansas didn't appreciate your tone apparently, but he would like you to know that despite that he's doing precisely what you told him."

Josh was greeted by quiet as he observed the group. Sam grinned triumphantly. Leo looked like he'd woken up in a strange room. The President gazed back at Josh expectantly and rocked on his heels in a patient fashion. Donna's face remained passive, but there was a sorrow and regret in her pale blue eyes that Josh understood quickly.

"Josh, my good man," Bartlet said. "Have you something to say, perhaps, of the familial news genre?"

"Do I?" he asked then looked at Donna who nodded stiffly. "Oh, right. That. So you know?"

"Know what?" Leo asked still trying to grasp the facts of the conversation.

"Donna's pregnant," Sam offered quickly and excitedly. "We're having a baby. Isn't that great?"

"Who's having a baby?" Toby asked, wishing he had paid attention when Sam started speaking.

"Well, not me," Bartlet chuckled.

"That would make for an interesting briefing tomorrow," Toby said.

Leo turned his sights on Josh and shook his head. His deputy's timing was always impeccable. It was either the best in the business or the worst anyone could imagine. Not that Leo had any thoughts on there being a baby, but the announcement could have been timed better, he thought, particularly not just moments after he came into the room seeking to discuss national business that required his full attention and that of the President, who was looking more like he wanted to knit booties than mediate a jurisdictional morass.

"Does it ever occur to you to tell me things like this in a better setting?" Leo asked Josh.

"Not usually, no," Josh answered honestly.

"We need more information," Toby said in reference to the FEMA issues as he began dialing his cellphone.

"Toby, Donna's having a baby," Sam said again.

"Yeah," Toby said flatly. "Great news. I'm past it. I'm working again."

"I was just making sure you were following," Sam said helpfully as he shook Josh's hand. He had a lot of questions he wanted to ask, such as why he had played everything so secretive the last few weeks and why he had flatly denied the news before that. But this was not the time or place, Sam decided. This was a celebration.

"And for the record, congratulations, Donna," Toby said mildly. "But I'm not sure letting him reproduce is a good idea."

"Well, you didn't pass any prohibitive legislation so you're as much to blame as anyone," CJ chuckled.

"This is definitely not a conversation I want any part of," Toby said and then scowled as his call went unanswered.

"He has a point; it's wonderful and exciting and mildly scary all at the same time, isn't it?" Bartlet remarked.

"Sir, Josh is standing right there," Sam offered in his friend's defense.

"I can see him," Bartlet assured the speechwriter. "Donna, this is wonderful news. Congratulations. You, too, Josh. Speaking as a long time parent, I can tell you that your work here has been good training. On a good day, parenting is similar wrangling Congress into line for a budget vote."

"Yes, sir," Josh said, casting a quick glance at Donna who seemed to be taking the attention well.

"And when are we to meet the newest member of the staff?" Bartlet asked.

"The staff?" Josh asked.

"Yes, this would be the Special Assistant to the _Deputy_ Deputy Chief of Staff," Bartlet offered, having heard Donna's joke about her position before and being one of the few who found it quaint if not actually funny. "So when is the big day?"

"Uh…," Donna said then froze.

She didn't know. She had never known. It wasn't going to happen so she never received that information.

"April 2," Abbey tossed out quickly and again surreptitiously squeezed Donna's hand briefly. "Donna was just giving me the details."

"Ah, the springtime," Bartlet mused. "When life renews itself."

Josh sighed loudly for two reasons. One, he was grateful the First Lady had saved Donna from further conversation and lies, but also because he was trying to center himself for the dissertation the President was obviously ramping up to give.

"Was that a rebuke?" Bartlet asked, eyeing him carefully.

"No sir," Josh said weakly as Donna stifled tears behind a well-timed yawn. "I was just…. Donna is tired and I'm just not sure she could fully appreciate whatever it is that you're about to explain… _ad nasuem_."

"You'll get away with it this time," Bartlet said, raising his eyebrows and scowling lightly. "And this time only. Donna, you do look exhausted. Call it an evening. Josh, this is your night off so do something you've never done before: Take the rest of the night off. Escort your wife home and enjoy your birthday tomorrow."

"Thank you, sir," Josh said and nodded to the others as he walked with Donna to the door.

CJ and Sam began to drift away as did Toby.

"And where do you think you're going?" Bartlet asked.

"Well, the party is breaking up," Toby offered. "The guest of honor just left."

"I dismissed him for the evening," Bartlet said. "We can still celebrate and mingle. Besides, I was about to impart some wisdom regarding the renewal of life."

"I thought that was for Josh's benefit," Toby remarked.

"It was, but he's gone now," Bartlet said.

"So we have to suffer in his place?" CJ asked.

"Unless you have an equally good reason not to," Bartlet said.

"I think I have a baby.... defrosting on a shelf some place," Toby offered jerking his thumb over his shoulder hopefully.

"Sit, Toby," the President commanded.

_Lyman House_

_Saturday morning—_

Josh returned from the office by 11 a.m., having been there since 7 a.m. to finish mediation with Leo regarding the FEMA issues. There were still a few dozen small fires to put out regarding the budget, but most of those were being farmed out to his various deputies. Josh returned home after Leo assured him there was nothing more to do of value for the day. When he arrived, he found her sitting on the couch with red-rimmed eyes and still wearing her pajamas.

"You okay?" he asked cautiously as he entered the living room suspicious that neither the radio nor the TV were on and she did not appear to be reading anything. "You're just sitting here?"

"Your mother called," she said.

"Is something wrong?" he asked alarmed.

"She's fine," Donna sniffled. "She just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. She tried your cellphone apparently."

"It was on my desk," Josh said relieved. "I was in Leo's office most of the morning. She have anything else to say?"

"I didn't talk to her," Donna said. "I couldn't. She'd have asked how I was and…"

"Donna, she doesn't know any of this," Josh said. "She wouldn't…"

"I can't lie to her, Josh," Donna said. "Maybe you can but I can't. I won't."

"So you want to tell her?"

"No, I don't," Donna said. "She wants grandchildren more than anything. She sat right here in this room when we thought you were…. She said that's what she had hoped for and… I won't break her heart with this."

"Your mother knows," Josh argued. "I don't see why we have to lie to…"

"My mother knows because Frannie has lived with this and been through it half a dozen times," Donna snapped. "You don't have to understand my reasons, I just want you to respect them. We're not telling her anything. You can call her back and talk to her, but tell her I'm not here."

"How is that not lying?"

"I won't be here," Donna said in a huff as she stood and walked toward the stairs. "I've been meaning to start cleaning out the carriage house outback so it can be converted into…. I don't know… something. I'll be out there."

"Are you sure?" he asked letting his concern show. "You look… pale."

"I'm fine," she said, though she did feel woozy and flush.

She ascended the stairs to leave him alone to make his phone call. He did so and received both his birthday well wishes and the typical 20 questions from his mother. He was able to manipulate the conversation away from specific questions about Donna by merely restating his normal complaints that his mother preferred talking with his wife and again swearing he had not begged his mother to move to Washington while he was feeling the effects of his medication when she last visited. It was a 20-minute conversation, shorter than they normally had when they has the time, but he reasoned that he spoke to his mother on a more regular basis since marrying Donna rather than relying primarily on short email messages to keep her up-to-date on his world. He also knew that in the normal course of a month, she would converse with Donna several times when he was not available. If his mother was suspicious of their discussion that day, she made no mention of it.

The rest of the day was quiet. They did not go out to eat as had been previously planned as Donna was exhausted after spending several long hours in the small three room structure in the backyard that she quaintly called a carriage house. It had a façade of such a dwelling but it was actually a mother-in-law apartment. Josh did not mind the name Donna used. Though he had not objections to Patricia Moss, the thought of her living in his backyard and around on a daily basis was more than he could handle. She was a good-hearted and interesting woman, but her thinking patterns and conversations let Josh know that Donna early-on had a teacher for what he considered her more flighty tendencies.

_The White House—_

The week began again with Donna receiving cards and well-wishes from other staffers who were not a part of the Friday gathering. She handled it well on the outside, but Josh could see the hurt in her eyes each time someone said how happy he or she was for Donna. Their congratulations were like little razors cutting into her deeply. She was having a hard time staying awake as the evenings drew near. He knew it was part chemical and part emotional—she was showing signs of depression, he feared, though she denied it each time he asked. He did what he could and didn't keep her at the office past 7 p.m. on any evening, even managing to let her go as early as 5:30 twice. Others on the assistant level eagerly pitched in to help, no doubt in part as a favor to Donna but also in an effort to get a leg up on co-workers. Josh heard discussions about temporary promotions from several of them as they figured Donna would be taking a lengthy maternity leave and Josh would require perhaps up to two full-time replacements in her absence.

He was luckier in that he was able to detach himself from the well-wishes from others by diving into the budget issues. An all out war with Congress would have been better to distract him, he knew, but with only minor skirmishes left to fight, he was focused sufficiently on them to keep back the dark thoughts that plagued his quiet hours at home. So when Sam off-handedly asked if he'd be willing to go over two small items for him on Friday rather than go home, Josh jumped at the opportunity.

The discussions dragged on longer than expected as more wrinkles appeared, particularly those pertaining to the economic conference the Vice President was chairing just after Thanksgiving. They would be tacking questions of permanent tax cuts, tort reform, class action law suits and the shoring up of the US dollar abroad. However, if any plan the White House forwarded to the Hill in the next year for any of those items, it needed to mesh well with the current budget negotiations and not conflict too strongly with Hoynes' eager agenda. The man wanted his chance at the Oval Office and was now poised to take every opportunity that came his way to ride on the legacy of the Bartlet administration as well as distance himself from it.

Heady thoughts like these after a stressful week of haggling with the talking heads of congressional subcommittees left both Sam and Josh not up for the task of solving the country's economic ills. This task was made even harder when one of them penned a sketch of the VP riding a dollar sign into the ground. A punchy and tired round of chuckles invaded the room and kept popping up as they attempted to remain on topic.

"So, I'm on the moon," Sam said as he tried to finish his take on the question of restrictions on class action law suits. He then paused and cocked his head to the side. "What did I just say?"

"Apparently, you're on the moon," Josh repeated and offered a tired grin. He was tired and didn't find the remark as humorous as it was ridiculous, but he had precious little that allowed him to smile lately so the chuckle—like the one about the VP—was much needed.

"Okay then," Sam laughed and took his glasses off then pinched the bridge of his nose. "Well, that just makes no sense. You know you've reached a special point…"

"When you transport yourself off the planet?" Josh ventured as he yawned and buried his face in his hands.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, wiping tears from his eyes. "I have no idea why that came out. I was trying to say I'm satisfied with the stipulations."

"And yet you said moon," Josh pointed out.

"Apparently," Sam continued to laugh. "One time, in law school, I dozed off in class. You know how they tell you to say '_I object'_ whenever you doze off and suddenly get called on?"

"No," Josh shook his head. "I never heard that."

"Well, someone said it to me," Sam said.

"Obviously, it wasn't someone who liked you," Josh chuckled.

"I think it was my father or maybe my undergrad advisor," Sam said, painfully trying to get his story out. "Anyway, someone said it… I…. I believed it… Of course, when it happened, I was in contracts."

"You announced that you objected in contracts?" Josh reveled.

"Almost," Sam said continued breathlessly. "I dozed off and meant to say it when I got called on. Instead, it came out '_I instruct.''_"

The two men unraveled into a controlled fit of hysteria. The room was stuff with the last blast of the Indian summer pushing a storm front through the region and messing with the climate control in the office.

"You crack me up, Sam," Josh said, finally taking a controlled breath and finding his voice.

"You think that's good, listen to this," Sam said recovering and feeling better than he had in months. "Last winter, after the Inauguration, I thought Donna was in love with me."

"Donna?" Josh asked. "Donna who?"

"Donna," Sam said forcefully.

"You mean," Josh began then held up his hand where his wedding ring should have been. "I mean, my Donna?"

"Yeah," Sam said.

The expression on Josh's face froze for a second and Sam grew worried until Josh suddenly tipped his head back and laughed loudly. Sam joined him and salted his gasps with details. The noise carried into the hallway. Leo, passing by, decided the boys need a chaperone and entered the room.

"I wrote her this note after her father passed away," Sam explained then noticed Leo. "Leo, I'm telling Josh about my almost-affair with Donna."

Leo grinned instantly and leaned on a chair. He shook his head and remembered the fear in the speechwriter's eyes as he tried to avoid contact with the assistant during the weeks following the Inauguration. The mirth that brought to his world was nearly as refreshing as seeing two of his top staffers finally breaking out of their stressed out zombie-like states that each had sported for weeks.

"You wrote her a love note as a condolence letter?" Josh asked, barely able to contain himself as he drew a ragged breath in an attempt to keep from blacking out from oxygen deprivation.

"I didn't mean it as one," Sam explained, tears squeezing out of the corners of his eyes. "So I wrote her this note, and I thought she was feeling vulnerable and I had… turned on the love charm."

"The love charm?" Josh rocked back in his chair.

"And when I saw her at the Ball, she looked all… you know, anxious and happy," Sam cried. "I thought it was for me. I asked CJ to help me…"

"Turn off the love?" Leo asked, chuckling dryly.

Sam nodded, tears rolling freely down his face as the three men fell into deep guffaws.

"Admittedly, now that I know you two had a thing, it seems pretty stupid," Sam continued. "You had this thing going on and there I was all that time trying to run interference so you won't fall for her."

"What?" Josh asked amid his laughter.

"Leo and I," Sam said pointing to the older man. "Oh, it gets better when you know this part. You're not going to believe this. We came up with this plan. Well, it was my strategy, but Leo let me run with it. We were going to see that you two didn't… I mean, it was funny."

"Yeah?" Josh asked, finally catching his breath and still grinning as he listened and processed what was being said.

"It was insane sometimes," Sam continued, slowly regaining his composure as the laughing fit burned out. "We switched your schedule like a 20 times and gave her busy work whenever I could; we even set you up with chaperones in about a dozen different instances."

"What?" Josh asked, his laughter faded and a puzzled look appeared on his face. "I don't… I don't understand."

"I was worried," Sam explained. "So I… did what I could to remove the worry, which is funny because all the while I thought I was preventing something, you were all ready… I mean… I look back now and it seems foolish, but at the time…"

"What do you mean?" Josh asked.

"We thought that you would do your typical disastrous job with a relationship," Leo added, looking at Josh and no longer seeing him laughing. "There was some concern that you'd do something characteristically stupid, and we didn't have room of time for it or the aftermath or more directly we didn't think you had the time."

"But you had room to run a _Three's Company_ skit?" Josh asked in a mild tone but the look on his face was sharp.

Sam looked at him and realized that the humor had left his voice.

"We had enough trouble with everything else," Leo said sagely. "You gotta admit Josh, there is ample evidence to show that when you screw up, it's usually big. It seemed like a good idea to remove any unnecessary obstacles from your path. We were cruising along at a good clip. Donna was speed bump we didn't need."

"A speed bump?" Josh repeated.

"A blond speed bump," Sam added then realized his attempt to return to humor had failed.

Josh sat very still in front of them, hearing his heart start to pound in his ears. He thought back to the campaign. He recalled Leo telling him not to work as closely with Donna. He recalled Sam telling him that Donna was not worthy of him. He recalled Toby being sent…

"Toby was in on this too?" he asked.

"No," Leo said.

"He thought it was stupid," Sam said. "I told him my concerns, and he told me… Well, he offered to throw me off Air Force One when we were over Indiana."

"He should have followed through," Josh said darkly.

"What?" Sam asked instantly.

"Josh," Leo began.

"No," Josh said suddenly standing. "We're finished here."

"Josh," Leo sighed and shook his head. "Sit down."

"No," he snapped. "I mean, Sam here. He surprises me. But you…. I don't even have the words."

"Listen," Sam said trying to ease the tension in the room. "It didn't mean anything and I'm sorry."

"Like hell it didn't mean anything," Josh seethed. "But I swear to God if you ever call Donna a blond speed bump again you will know what it means to be sorry."

"We had bigger things to deal with," Leo reasoned.

"Apparently not since you found time to screw around with my life," Josh argued.

"It's over and passed," Leo said trying to sound sage and calm. "Let it go."

"Oh well, that just makes it fine," Josh said.

"Trust me," Sam began was cut off swiftly by Josh's cutting tone.

"No, I don't think I will," Josh said suddenly. "Which is probably a good thing since you obviously don't trust me. But hey, if you want to just say it's over, then fine."

"Fine?" Sam asked hopefully. "So that's it."

"Josh, frankly I think this indignation is a bit misplaced," Leo said. "I can see being a little pissed, okay, a lot pissed for a few moments when you found out, but you're not walking out of here mad like this. Look at reality. We failed, spectacularly. You got what you wanted—we all did. We won the election and you got the girl. What does it matter what else happened? No one got hurt and it's long in the past; life is good."

"Life is good," Josh mumbled and shook his head as he stared down at his hands.

"Yeah, we're still here and you've got the happily-ever-after thing going, complete with baby makes three," Sam said encouragingly. "Let the good times roll. Everything is fine."

"I can't even form the words," Josh said feeling the rage in him, bottled up with his anxiety of the secret he and Donna were still keeping, began to poison his blood.

"So now what?" Leo asked aggressively. "You're gonna hold a grudge like a four-year old who had to sit in time-out for the afternoon? You're an adult, Josh. Act like it."

"I am," Josh said hotly and pointed menacingly at Leo to make his point. "I can't believe you… I'm ashamed that I ever thought of you as a friend—either of you."

"Hey," Sam interrupted. "This has gone too far. Look, we said we were sorry. Let's move on."

"No, Sam," Josh said coldly. "The only thing you're sorry about is that I didn't find your little game funny. And don't try to apologize now. I won't accept it. You just don't get it, do you? Just because you are incapable of keeping your private life in any type of order, you had no right to assume that I would do the same."

"I think, based on your track record…," Sam began.

"I don't have a track record," Josh said. "What I have is a life that is my own. How I conduct it in my personal time is my business; I don't break the law and I don't do anything that interferes with the work we do here—which is more than I can say for either of you. It wasn't your job to see that I…. You just… You don't see it, do you? You pretend you're sorry, but you don't see that you were wrong; you were out of line!"

"Look, it wasn't personal," Sam said approaching Josh as he turned to leave.

"It wasn't?" Josh exclaimed. "It was my life, Sam! It was her life! How the hell is that not supposed to be personal?"

"Josh," Sam said, placing a hand on his arm to stop him. Josh raised his arm abruptly and shook of the other man's grasp. He turned and offered a nasty glare for the both of them as he spoke in cool, controlled acidic tones.

"Leo, you're an alcoholic and a drug addict," Josh began. "I know this and I know your history, but I never doubted you; I never turned on you; I never showed you anything but loyalty. And you, Sam…."

"Josh, you're…," Sam began but was cut off by Josh's scoff.

"It's late," he said frigidly. "Shouldn't you be in bed with a hooker?"

Neither man stopped him as he exited the room this time. Sam stared at the open door and waited for the feeling to come back to his legs. He turned his head to see Leo whose expression likely mirrored his own.

Josh continued down the hall and disappeared into his office. Neither man made any move to reopen the conversation. Leo left with a rueful shake of the head but an expression that said he was mostly unconcerned by the recent blow up. Sam wasn't as optimistic. He'd looked into Josh's eyes; there was something in them that chilled the speechwriter to the bone. He wasn't sure fully what it was, but it strongly resembled betrayal. Sam slowly and quietly gathered his notes from the table and made his way back to his office.

He was back at his desk when he looked up to find another pair of disgusted staring at him. He was silhouetted in the doorway looking down at Sam with equal measures of mystification and shame.

"Hey Charlie," Sam said slowly. "You look kind of wet there. Did you fall in a swimming pool or something?"

"It's raining," he said simply.

"Right," Sam said, noting he could hear the soft pecking of the drops against his window. "What are you doing here? The President's in New Hampshire until tomorrow morning."

"I came in to get ready for tomorrow," he answered.

"Can I help you?" Sam asked, feeling like he was the one who wasn't supposed to be there. The aide's stare was a combination of accusation and antipathy.

"It's none of my business, but you're a jackass, you know that?" Charlie said in a respectful yet forceful tone then turned to leave.

"What?" Sam asked standing and following him.

"You really did that?" Charlie asked, keeping his back turned as he walked toward his office. "He was your friend—they both were."

"You're talking about Josh," Sam surmised. "How did you…"

"Maybe I should add stupid to that description," Charlie said shaking his head. "It's the Roosevelt Room, Sam. Not the Situation Room."

"All right," Sam said dejectedly. "So I was a jackass. I agree in some ways. But I really feel like is…"

"Who gives a damn how you feel?" Charlie said as he arrived at his desk. "It wasn't about you. No, wait. I'm wrong. It was about you. It was about you from the start."

"Josh told you?" Sam asked. "Is he here still?"

"No, Josh didn't tell me anything and I just saw him leave as I was getting here," Charlie said. "I thought you were just taking nonsense last year at Camp David when you were rambling on about running interference between Josh and Donna. I thought that was Jack Daniel's talking. But it was true. You really did it. Why?"

"The same reason I do anything this awful," Sam confessed. "I was scared."

"I guess that's one more difference between you and me," Charlie replied. "When I get scared, my first thought isn't how to turn on my friends."

"It wasn't like that," Sam said feebly. "Charlie, we were in the middle of the closest election this country has ever seen. The numbers didn't look good—even the first primary was a fight. The outlook was dismal, appalling even. I thought we would lose if we all didn't buckle down. I also honestly thought it might look bad; we didn't need sordid stories about the White House being a hotbed of sexual intrigue, and we wouldn't have survived another scandal. Plus what if it didn't work out? Donna's an asset to this work we do. I thought it was the best for everyone if I just…"

"I think the only part of what you just said that's true is where you kept saying 'I'," Charlie surmised with pity. "You were worried about your job. You know something, Sam? For a smart guy, you really are limited. I'd call you shallow or self-centered, but that's not what it is. You're limited. What I don't get is how Leo fits in; don't tell me. I don't want to know."

"Charlie, you should understand that…."

"No," Charlie cut him off. "I shouldn't and I don't want to; it's none of my business and if you had learned anything from this or if you felt the least bit sorry, you'd know it was none of yours either."

"I am sorry," Sam protested.

"No, what I think is that you're feeling guilty," Charlie said. "Maybe you're sorry you got caught or whatever happened so that he knows what you did."

"You know, I'm not sure I have to listen to the indignation," Sam argued. "Yeah, I made some choices, but we all do. No one got hurt."

"That's not what I hear," Charlie said. "Sam, you're right. I've got no right judging you. Maybe you should just go back to your office."

"Look, I feel bad about this," Sam sighed, regretting snapping at the man. "It's been a bad night, I guess. I'm going to go grab some coffee. Do you want…"

"Yeah, I don't think you get to soothe your conscience by feeling bad after the fact," Charlie replied. "You're gonna have to cry on someone else's shoulder."

"What do you want me to say?" Sam asked. "I was wrong. I know that. I think Josh will see that when he calms down. And I'm not worried about him. He's fine—mad but fine; Josh gets mad a lot. He'll get to his car, realize he forgot his keys or something then come back to his office and spend four hours viciously attacking raw legislation on his desk. He'll think of a bunch of new names to call me and then…."

"I thought you were his friend," Charlie said shaking his head as he sat down and turned his back to Sam. "He did, too."

Sam followed him, puzzled by Charlie's brush off. Sure, the indignation was predictable, but the resignation and concern seemed a little more than Sam expected from the reticent aide. Rather than argue further, Sam bowed his head then left. He wandered down the hall, not interested in returning to his office. He stopped and listened to the hushed hum of the building, still alive with some activity on a stormy Friday night.

_Okay, so Josh is upset; that's fairly obvious, _Sam thought as he stood in the hallway_. But Charlie, too? It's not like I killed someone. It's not like Josh can't take care of himself or that he didn't end up on the winning side in this thing despite what I did. And really, why is Josh even mad? I can see a little surprise, shock perhaps at first, but the guy doesn't have any reason to be angry. It's not like what I did I actually made any difference. He dated Donna; he married her! They're having a baby—his life couldn't get any better. No, Josh is being indignant just because he can be. _

"Sam?"

The speechwriter turned to see Leo in the door to the Chief of Staff's outer office. He was looking as grim and glum as Sam felt.

"Josh is upset," Sam responded unnecessarily.

"Yeah."

"I was thinking of going to check on him," Sam said. "Try and smooth this over before it becomes a thing."

"Josh will be fine," Leo said unconvincingly. "Pissed but fine."

"That's what I said," Sam replied. "Charlie said…"

"Charlie?"

"Grapevine is in high gear apparently," Sam said sourly. "My clandestine plans to rule the world starting with sidetracking Josh's love life have been exposed for the evil to the universe that they are. Charlie seems to know the whole story and Josh is pissed at me."

"At us," Leo corrected. "He's pissed because we didn't trust him."

"But it wasn't like that," Sam offered.

"Yeah, it's exactly like that," Leo disagreed without remorse.

"It hurt him," Sam said sullenly. "I'm sure it sounds funny considering, but that wasn't my point. I never wanted to hurt anyone."

"We never do, but it happens anyway," Leo said matter-of-factly. "I'm always surprised by how much--and at the same time how little--it takes to do that to a person."

"Will he forgive us?"

"It's Josh," Leo said. "I just don't know. We forgot one thing."

"Just one?"

"One big one," Leo said.

"What's that?"

"It's Josh," Leo informed him. "There are certain lines that don't get crossed with him. Even though he's a politician, Josh places a lot more stock in trust than most of us do. Tonight, the market crashed."

"I never meant to hurt him," Sam said again.

"Hardly matters now, does it?" Leo remarked. "Sam, let it go. Leave Josh alone for the weekend. He'll be fine. It'll blow over in a day or two. Until then, steer clear."

_Deputy Chief of Staff's Office_

_Monday evening—_

Leo arrived at Josh's office just before 7 p.m. on Monday. He had known it was too much to hope that Friday's incident would be forgotten and forgiven by the start of the new week. However, he had at least expected Josh to speak to him regarding the business of state during the day. Twice when he had requested information from the man, Leo received it in the form of a message delivered by Margaret. There was no problem with that occurring, but Leo thought it best to end this tantrum quickly and quietly. That morning's staff meeting had been particularly frosty in his estimation. There was none of the typical banter; the stony silence from the Operations side of the house was noted by everyone in the room but no one asked about it.

Leo noted Donna was not at her desk but was unconcerned by this. For her part, she did not seem to bear any ill will toward he or Sam that Leo had noticed. He thought this was more professional than her husband and boss's actions until he realized that she likely didn't know the story yet. It would be like Josh to withhold that kind of information from her—preferring to brood alone and in silence. Although, given their recent announcement, it might also be chauvinistic tendencies.

"Josh," Leo said as he entered the dimly lit room. Josh sat at his desk reading reports and looked up briefly.

"What?"

"Donna gone?" Leo asked casually, wading into the discussion slowly.

"Is she at her desk?" he asked coldly and receiving no response answered the question. "Then apparently she's not here."

"Josh," Leo sighed forcefully. "Look, I've had enough of this...juvenile behavior. This needs to end. What's done is done. Move on."

"So I should just forget about this?" Josh remarked. "Pretend it didn't happen?"

"That would be best," Leo said though he knew it was unlikely.

"Is that how it works?" he asked. "Do you pick and choose on the 12 Steps that way, because if it is, then I know how you got into that mess back just before the election in 1998."

"Hey," Leo snapped. "You're out of line."

"So were you that night," Josh shrugged. "I seem to recall doing a lot of damage control for you after that. Funny. I don't remember thinking you were incompetent to do your job though I had ample evidence. I really should have learned better from you the master."

"That's enough," Leo said.

"Hey, it's in the past," Josh replied. "Move on, Leo. Pretend I never said it; it'll be like it never happened."

"This is the White House," Leo said firmly. "If you want to be pissed at me, fine. You can be pissed at me, but the attitude has no place in this building."

"You know, I can handle that you don't respect me or the work I've done here," Josh said. "What I mind is your assumption that you have a right to better treatment that you afforded me."

"You want to hate me personally, go ahead," Leo said shaking his head, realizing that this fit was not going to burn itself out quickly. "The office, mine and yours, deserves better than a juvenile tantrum."

"No man inherently deserves respect," Josh informed him confidently. "It's something you have to earn it and something you have to keep earning. Fine, I can respect the power and the duty of your office; I don't have to respect the man who holds it."

"Then maybe it's time you should consider working somewhere else," Leo said, feeling like father scolding a toddler who didn't understand the word no.

"You're pissed because Toby was all over you about McClesky," Josh surmised thinking back to the heated meeting in the Roosevelt Room that morning in which Toby had sided loudly and vehemently against the Chief of Staff. Josh was in that meeting and though he disagreed with Toby felt that his briefing memo outlined that sufficiently. While the battle raged, Josh sat back impassively and let Leo take his lumps and flounder on several points until the Deputy Chief of Staff opted to step in and correct their boss on two integral points that led to the end of the meeting.

"You think I need you to fight all my battles?" Leo scoffed. "You have a decidedly over developed sense of self. I'm not a novice at this politics stuff and I have a pretty tough skin. I think its past time you grow up and grow one of your own."

"You wanted a position paper on 203—you got it and the President agrees with me, by the way," Josh said in a mechanical fashion, listing off his tasks for the day. "You needed someone to deal with Ways and Means and get them off McPhereson's back—it's done. You needed want a list of candidates to replace the deputy secretary for education--the short list will be on your desk by tomorrow. I've done everything you asked be done as well as a few dozen other things that popped up in the interim. Where precisely have I neglected my duties?"

"You haven't," Leo said flatly.

"I thought I was being unprofessional," Josh said, knowing this discussion was petulant, but not caring.

"You know damn well your attitude needs more than a little adjusting," Leo said. "I'm not going to fight this battle with you every day. I don't have time for it and there's no place for it in this White House. So grow up or put your letter on my desk."

"Am I still allowed to hate you, sir?" Josh asked, adding the last word strategically.

"We're done," Leo said and turned his back to leave. "Go home and figure out what you're going to do."

"Go to hell," Josh said, stopping the man in his tracks. Leo turned back to look at him. "I serve at the pleasure of the President. I'll leave when he asks me. You want to tell him to do it, go ahead."

_Naval Observatory_

_Home of the Vice President_

_Wednesday evening_

Josh arrived at the home of the Vice President of the United States as requested just after 7 p.m. To do so was easy with his current schedule. Most of the senior staff was in California with the President after a trip to Chicago, a trip to Calgary for a meeting with the Canadian Prime Minister regarding NAFTA that had taken them away from the White House early Tuesday morning. Josh had been scheduled to join them but the President had abruptly requested Leo's presence with him to discuss the growing problems with Germany and the European community following several moves made by their questionable politician, Richter. There was tension on the home front as well with vocal advocates within the Jewish community demanding the White House denounce Richter. That, followed by a heinous crime in West Virginia in which two teenage brothers were brutally slain and their bodies mutilated with the symbol of the swastika, left the White House catching flak from normally friendly areas. Josh had been asked to remain behind to meet with the top sharp shooter in this department, Rabbi David Schulman following several day trips to influential voices in the Jewish community. He and Toby were quieting fears and trying to keep most of the waves from crash over the sides of the ship of state.

It had been brisk in the office since the revelation the two weeks earlier Friday. Josh was fortunate to have been gone as often as he had. Schulman led protests across the country, though none were more vocal nor received more coverage than the ones in New York City. Josh had been there four times in the previous two weeks and was fairly certain if he was there more often he'd have to start paying taxes to that state. However, the travel was a mixed blessing. His main contact in all of this was Toby (along with several brief conversations on the phone with the President). His contact with Leo was minimal; for the information he needed relayed, a message to Margaret was more than sufficient. As for Sam, there was no need to even see him, which Josh felt was a good maneuver as he was unaware if he possessed the personal restraint to not assault the man.

So, it was with deep weariness in his bones and a distinct desire to return to his home and see Donna—who was strategically in the dark on Sam and Leo's campaign antics—that Josh followed the Vice President's request to meet him after hours away from the White House. Josh rarely relished his one-on-one discussions with Hoynes and was certain this one would be no different. He wanted to be home. He knew he needed to be home; he and Donna were in the middle of some important discussions regarding their future, which he knew had her more worried about his sanity than her own health. Whatever Hoynes wanted, Josh hoped it would be a short and pointless meeting.

"How are you?" Hoynes asked as Josh entered the study and was ushered into a seat.

"Fine," Josh said quickly. "What do you want, sir?"

"Come on, Josh," the Vice President replied casually. "You know I remember a time when you let me play the know-it-all hard ass just to assuage my ego."

"Mr. Vice President…" Josh began.

"I want you back," Hoynes said. "To the point enough for you? I have a job, and you're the best man for it."

"I have a job," Josh said skeptically.

"A job that has zero growth potential and doesn't utilize your considerable talents," Hoynes said, warming to the conversation. "You'll never sit in Leo McGarry's chair during this administration. You had your little stint last year, but it isn't your place. Or should I say, it isn't your place yet?"

"I'm not looking for a promotion," Josh answered.

"I know," Hoynes said. "You're looking for a way out. But you're torn. You like what you do, you just don't like who you do it for any longer. You've had some offers that you find tempting right now. What? You think it's a secret the Mayor of New York City made you an offer to be his deputy? Mitch and I are friends, Josh. Who do you think told him he should pitch you the offer?"

Until that moment, Josh believed Donna was the only person in Washington who knew of the job offer which he was considering.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Josh lied.

"Sure you do," Hoynes said confidently. "Mitch Colton wants to be President some day, and he knows he needs varsity level help to get there."

"He should consider a different sport," Josh sighed.

"I agree," Hoynes said then shifted tactics. "But the maintenance staff is running in circles to figure out why it's so damn cold over in the west wing lately. We both know it's got nothing to do with the weather or the heaters. You're the one who masterminded Jed Bartlet's victory, and they treated you like an intern that needed to be ushered through the motions. Hell, you've covered up their missteps, obfuscated their mistakes and even thrown yourself in front of political bullets for them, and they paid you back by showing you no trust, no respect and no apologies—no sincere ones anyway. Ah, you're surprised. Yeah, I know what they did."

"Who?" Josh asked feebly.

"Judas and Brutus," Hoynes said with a disappointed look on his face. "Two of the people you're closest with and they handled you like some tawdry mistress you sneak out the back door so no one sees her."

"Sir, this really isn't…"

"You can't even look at Leo when you speak to him, and you won't even speak to Sam Seaborn," Hoynes informed him confidently. "You talk in his general direction when you absolutely have to, I'm told. Josh, you and I haven't always seen eye-to-eye and I won't lie to you; we'll disagree in the future. The difference is, I respect you and I've never, would never, treat you otherwise. I think you know that. Now, don't insult me or my intelligence. We both know you want out, Josh. I think leaving is the right choice; I'm so sure of it, I'm showing you a door."

"I don't know what you're referring to, John," Josh said smoothly. "I like my job just fine."

"You like the work you do," Hoynes said. "I know. You're good at it—too good to be stuck moving along a political agenda for a president who's on his way out. Jed Bartlet is a good man. I know you're loyal to him; I know how deep your loyalty runs, but they don't recognize what they've got. I do. Josh, you're meant to be more than Leo McGarry's errand boy."

"I like to think the Deputy Chief of Staff is slightly more than an errand boy," Josh said. "Sir, can you maybe just get to the point?"

"Truth to power—it doesn't scare you," Hoynes shook his head. "That's what impressed me first about you. You're not a yes-man. It's not always easy having you around, but I learned my lesson the hard way. I made a mistake back in 1998; I should have listened to you. I know that, and I'm a big enough and wise enough man to say it. We made a good team, Josh. I've learned a lot in the last few years. I make it a point not to make the same mistake twice. I'm going to run for president again, Josh. I want to win, and I need you to do that."

"Now's really not the…," Josh began.

"I want to win," Hoynes said again. "I may be the Vice President, but there's a lot of ground to chew between today and the New Hampshire Primary. Come work for me."

"You have a Chief of Staff," Josh said. "Stu does his job just fine."

"I don't want you in the OEOB," Hoynes said. "I want you to run the campaign. I can trust my staff to keep the schedule; I need your help to win the nomination and then election."

Josh shook his head. He received offers from time to time—one of the perks and downsides to working in the White House. There was a myth that if one had worked in that building that he could work miracles anywhere else, as if an old business card was a genie in a lamp bestowing him with magical powers. It was true; he did believe that if Hoynes had listened to him during the first campaign, it would have been a very different outcome to the primaries. He had liked John Hoynes in many ways. They didn't see eye to eye on all subjects, but he was a strong and shrew politician who had untested depths of for being a survivor, a warrior and a magnanimous victor. Josh did trust him to run the country in an emergency because he did believe that the man had the welfare of the many as his prime focus—how he went about getting at achieving that end and how best to convey that message was often where they parted ways.

"I'm not looking for a new job," Josh said.

"You'll never be happy in New York—we both know it," Hoynes said. "You'll ache for this place, Josh. Washington is in your blood; it's your addiction. This is the center of the world. What happens here affects every other life on this planet and this is where you need to be. Sure, you could take the job in New York, but that's like sending All-Star shortstop down to the minors for no reason at all. You'll tire of the slow play and the small time wins. You made it to the majors long ago and this is where you belong. I'm sure at a time like this it's tempting to think that moving back to that place that was once home would be a comfort. Donna loves that old house and your mother would love to visit and tend her roses again, wouldn't she?"

Josh stared back at the man. That he knew about the job offer from New York was a bit of a surprise, but not a shock. That the Vice President knew Josh and Donna were mulling over the idea of leaving Washington to get away from the insanity and try to lead normal more peaceful lives could have been a lucky guess, but to know they were considering making an offer on his parents' former home was practically witchcraft.

"How is Donna?" Hoynes asked, sensing he was working the proper strings.

"Fine," Josh said simply.

"I can only imagine how hard this is on her," Hoynes continued. "You as well. Marcia and I were lucky. She was healthy both times when she was carrying the boys, and there were no complications. I remember when Christopher was in the accident; until we knew it was only a broken leg, I was half out of my mind with worry. Being a father does that to you. Everything takes on a new light when you find out that you're responsible for part of the next generation. I'm sorry it has to be like this for you, Josh. I truly am; I wouldn't wish Donna's illness on an enemy."

"Sir, this really isn't…," Josh began, uncomfortable with the new direction of the conversation.

"Do you remember when the hospital called about Chris's accident?" Hoynes recalled, referring to an incident during his tenure as a senator when his son was injured. "What stands out in my mind most are two things: First I remember is being worried blind. The other thing I remember is you; you took care of everything—that floor vote I couldn't miss but needed to in order to get to the hospital, and later you took care of the reporters who set up camp on my front yard. Earl Brennan always said I was getting more than just a political operative. _He'll be your shield and your sword, John_, he said. He had that right. You've been the same thing for this administration, but they don't seem to appreciate that. And now, of all the times when you least need the fickle and petty nature of this town, you find out they cast you out long ago."

"How do you know?" Josh asked, stunned by Hoynes' knowledge of his and Donna's private situation. "About Donna, I mean. We haven't said…"

"Josh, I know," Hoynes said. "That's what matters. I know you didn't want it to be public knowledge. I can't blame you. This is a hard time for you and especially Donna. My offer gets you out of Washington fairly often; she might like the traveling. I know she enjoyed campaigning. You're a good team—it's a package deal. They might not have liked the idea of your little dynamic duo, but when I see something that works…."

"They didn't say she couldn't work for…," Josh began.

"I know what they said, but I also know what they did, Josh," Hoynes said. "It's in the past, but you're not past it. How could you be? You're looking to break away and leave this behind you. I think this is the offer you shouldn't refuse."

"Now is not…," Josh started. "Mr. Vice President, I… Donna and I aren't looking to… What I mean to is…"

"Think about it, Josh," Hoynes said, rising from his seat. "Talk to Donna. I don't need an answer right now. You both had some rough days ahead of you, and you should concentrate on getting through those first. But when you're ready, the job is waiting for you. It's your destiny, Josh. She's waiting."

Josh cocked his head to the side, the words of his father's long lost letter running through his mind. There was no way that Hoynes knew of that; no one did other than Josh himself. He looked back at the Vice President with a thoughtful gaze then shook the man's hand.

He didn't recall most of his drive home and was mildly surprised to realize he had parked his car in the garage before he realized he didn't remember the drive. He entered the house to find the downstairs dark. It was a setting he was now familiar with; Donna was upstairs sleeping most likely. He didn't see her when he returned any night after 8 p.m. She was usually to be found curled up beside his pillow with a book or magazine clutched in her hands. Her reading choices were nothing short of bizarre, which he found entirely normal and predictable for her. She could be found reading anything from the secret tips to refinishing a mahogany banister to the latest translations and predictions from ancient Hindu texts. She never stayed with any subject long; Josh suspected she merely grabbed whatever found it's way to her fingertips during the day. Her level of fascination lasted only until her eyes fluttered shut each evening. He supposed she had tackled her academic career in the same fashion: being fascinated with nearly everything in general but nothing in particular.

He had been the opposite. He had wanted to work in politics for as long as he could remember. He was at the top of his profession more than a decade before of any of his mentors had been in their careers. He liked working at the White House; he liked the power but mostly he liked what the power allowed him to do. Most people only dreamed of making a difference in their lives, the lives of others and the world at large. Josh knew that was a reality for him every day. As the Deputy Chief of Staff he was one of the most influential men in the nation. He had the ear of the President and orchestra the Congress of the most powerful country on the planet into action. He knew precisely how to do it and when he needed to be done to achieve the administration's goals.

Hoynes knew this. He also knew Josh was a man with the skills to put other people in the White House. And Hoynes wasn't the only one. Whether word of the divisions within the senior staff was making the rounds in Washington, Josh did not know for certain. He did know that those offers each of the senior staff got from time-to-time were coming in more frequently for him. Donna, too, had noticed it and remarked upon it when he passed the idea of relocating to New York by her. He was certain that she would talk him out of it quickly. However, she did not. While he was certain she did not believe his flimsy explanation that he was just thinking of some party-building strategy, she did not seem to object to leaving this world behind as much as he suspected she would. She was the one who mentioned his parents' former home in Connecticut. She had been in touch with Isaac Miller recently in email and he apparently had mentioned that the house was on the market again. Josh was no fan of reliving the past, but the look in Donna's eyes as she thought out loud about relocating and buying the home was the first placid and pleased look he'd see in her eyes in weeks. He didn't think leaving Washington would make anything easier on himself or Donna, but she was the one person he knew he could depend upon and for that he would do anything for her.

He prepared to go to bed and had just climbed in beside her when she opened her eyes.

"Where have you been?" she asked.

"I had a meeting," he said.

"CJ was looking for you," Donna replied. "You weren't at the office and no one there knew where you were."

"I was in a meeting," he said again. "I got caught up in it. I guess I didn't check my cell phone. What did CJ want?"

"She's upset," Donna yawned. "Apparently Jack was pulling some wire stories for her to look at and he found something he thought was funny but she obviously didn't."

"What?"

"Apparently, CJ's gay," Donna said flatly. "At least, that's what some woman in Ohio is saying. She claims she and CJ had an interlude in college and she's outing her now."

"What?"

"This woman…," Donna began but stopped as Josh lifted the phone beside him and began dialing.

After several seconds, he began speaking. Donna listed in a detached fashion as she snuggled closer to him, finding it easier to sleep lately when she could hear Josh's heartbeat. It was predictable and soothing—two things she desperately needed in her world at this point. When he wasn't there, she dozed but she found herself tossing fitfully as her mind raced in anticipation of the awful day which she woke up each morning believing would be that very day.

"You have kinky lesbian sex in college and this doesn't plague us during a campaign," Josh said as an opening. "How did we get so lucky?"

"Okay, that joke got old about four hours ago," CJ said in a perturbed fashion. "Where have you been?"

"Combing through photos at the National Archives to see if you're in any civil unions marches in Massachussetts," Josh chided. "What's this story?"

"Some woman in Ohio who was a teacher's aide got fired for budgetary reasons," CJ explained, not enjoying the attention she was receiving and seething to respond to the ludicrous story but fearful that even a staunch denial would give the tale more life. "She's claiming it wasn't the budget but because the school board found out she's gay. She thinks she's a victim of discrimination and during her little speech in front of the school with her attorney, she started outing other people in town."

"And the state of Ohio had a collective heart attack," Josh surmised.

"After naming the mayor's son and a state legislator, she announced that they were proof that homosexuals are competent professionals that we can all trust and finally…," CJ said.

"She named you," Josh said. "Why?"

"I don't know," CJ snapped.

"Are you sure?"

"Josh!" CJ growled. "You're not helping. It's not true. She went to UC Berkley the same time I was there, but there are like thousands of students there and I swear I never met this woman."

"She's not from your home town, you don't know any of the same people, you didn't get drunk at some party and…," Josh began.

"No," she said firmly. "And I'm not sure you're forgiven for whatever sordid images you've got running through your mind, by the way."

"Who has this?"

"It's just a small paper with a circulation of about 6,000," CJ said. "But it hit the wire."

"No one's going to run with it," Josh assured her. "Its libel and they all know it. Hell, Danny Concannon can refute it—just have him tell the story about how his phone got into the back seat of your…"

"Are you done?" CJ cut him off.

"Ignore it," Josh offered. "It'll be hard, but don't jump at this. It's a non-story. Someone might ask you, but I say make a joke or two—nothing too insensitive because we have the modifications to the hate crime legislation to push through before we break for the holidays. The thing in West Virginia has bought us some grease for the rails so you can be funny, but just don't be too funny."

"Sam said I should ignore it entirely and tell them I'm not commenting," CJ said, unsure which approach to take. When Josh didn't respond immediately, she questioned him. "Josh? I'm sort of leaning toward doing what Sam suggested. What do you think?"

"I wouldn't take any advice on anything that affects you personally from Sam Seaborn," Josh said in a calm yet angry tone.

"What does that mean?" she asked. "What is it with the two of you lately? Did he take your favorite baseball card? I'm in the middle of a crisis trying to figure out if someone other than this loony toon in Ohio is behind this story and you two have this case of sibling rivalry going on that I can't figure out."

"You think someone else is behind the story?" Josh asked.

"Well, the thought did cross my mind," CJ said as though he was dull. "It wouldn't be, you know, out of the realm of possibility that someone who doesn't like us put her up to it or will take this and use it against us. Who though?"

"Check the backyard," Josh said.

"You think it could be a Democrat?" she asked. "That's crazy."

"Hey, it's politics," he said bitterly. "You can't really trust anyone—least of all those you think are your friends."

They disconnected several minutes later as CJ decided she would let discuss the matter more thoroughly with Toby when he returned her call. As Josh replaced the phone in its cradle, he found Donna looking at him with a suspicious gaze. He knew he could not avoid her questions much longer. He knew he would tell her the truth soon.

_Old Ebbit's Grill_

_Friday evening—_

Josh sat at the back bar of the restaurant just around the corner from the White House. He was meeting Toby there as he didn't seem to get anything done in the office in the evenings any longer. Their discussion didn't need to be long, but any time spent away from the office was good time for Josh lately—or at least not arduous time. There were few people in the normally busy restaurant he noted but thought little of it. The weather was bad and there had been hellish traffic in the city all day as the last ditch efforts to get road construction done before the frost fully set in for the reason was underway. That effectively kept many of the tourists away.

He was joined shortly by Toby who was looking drenched and proclaimed he wanted to find some way to blame two congressmen for the rain but hadn't figured out how yet. Josh listened to him rant for several moments then drifted. Toby noticed, having seen the despondent gaze in the deputy's eyes in recent days.

"Hey," Toby said. "What's going on?"

"It's raining," Josh said, trying and failing to prove he had been listening.

"You and Sam and you and Leo," Toby said. "I'm not sure if there's anyone else you're pissed at—there's only so much melodrama I can process when sober."

"I thought we were here to talk about McClesky," Josh said, avoiding the question. "I know you don't like it, but we have to go to Avrill. There's no other way."

"Fine," Toby said, ordering a Dewer's straight up for himself. Josh passed on a refill of his beer. "You talk to Avrill, and I'll sit in my office and ignore her."

"Toby," Josh sighed. "I know you don't like it, but we have to talk to Avrill at some point."

"Not this week," Toby agreed tersely and received and nod of ascent from Josh. "You're not on your game."

"I'm fine," Josh assured him.

"Okay, I want no part of this but as you all seem to be around me I feel I have to say something," Toby sighed. "I mean... I'm a 50-year-old divorced man who knows nothing about relationships except this: you don't throw everything away because someone disappoints you. Don't. Let me finish. I know there's more to this than that, but in the end that's what it boils down to. They're sorry. They're wrong. Get over it."

"It's not that easy," Josh said. "Sorry isn't good enough. In fact, I'm tired of people being sorry or feeling sorry. You know, I think I actually hate pity. I didn't think I hated anything, but the more I think about it, I hate pity."

"There's not pity here," Toby said. "I think you're a bit too self-involved in this one. Find the high road. Hell, I'll draw you a map if you need it. At the end of the day, you win. You have two things in your life that are yours and no one is going tot take away from you: a woman who loves you and a child on the way."

"No, I don't," Josh said tearing little shreds from the napkin under his glass.

"I'm sorry," Toby said. "Is there trouble with you and Donna?"

"No," Josh shook his head. "Look, never mind. I should go back and finish reading the…"

Toby looked back at him, startled by the devastated expression that played briefly across Josh's face.

"What is it?" Toby asked. "What's wrong? Is it… Josh, how is Donna doing?"

"She's fine," he lied unconvincingly. "Great even. She's tired, but that's normal."

"Josh, is the baby okay?" Toby asked gently.

"No," he answered softly, staring at his hands. "I mean, I don't know. We don't know anything really except that it's genetic—the problem. Donna's family has a history of…. She wasn't even supposed to be able to conceive. It's only a matter of time before…"

"Oh," Toby said chastely. He paused and let more than a minute of silence pass before speaking again. "There's nothing to doctors can do?"

"They don't even have an official name for it," Josh said. "Norway has done some research, but..."

"Is there anything I can do?" Toby asked feeling useless.

"Toby, frankly, I don't even know what I'd ask for if there was anyone with that kind of power," Josh said. "I mean, do you ask for it to be over sooner or for it to never have started?"

Toby sat in thoughtful silence. He knew some of what Josh was feeling. He and Andrea had gone through several failed pregnancies before it finally pulled them so far apart their marriage didn't survive. He didn't think there was anything he could say or do to help; he recalled that nothing anyone did ever seemed to help him when he and his wife faced this problem.

"I know you're not someone who goes to Temple, but if you want I can arrange for you to see my rabbi," Toby offered.

"Last time I checked, the only one of our guys who had the kind of skills Donna needs could walk on water," Josh scoffed. "Unless you've got a direct line and a favor to call in… Chatting with a rabbi won't change how I feel."

"Why did you guys announce it anyway if you knew that…"

"The First Lady was about to out Donna," Josh said. "She said people would notice and she was right. When its over, everyone will just think it was one of those things and we move on. Don't, uh, don't tell anyone. Donna doesn't want anyone to know because then people will feel sorry for her and that's going to make her feel even worse and she doesn't need that."

Toby nodded. It wasn't his way to gossip. He understood now better why Josh was unable to let his anger with Sam and Leo go. It was something tangle and in front of him. It was something he could be angry about that was outside of himself. Whether all of his anger was the anxiety of the loss he and Donna were awaiting, he did not know. But he was certain that until that situation resolved itself, there would be no room in Josh's mind for forgiveness for the transgression of others.

"Josh, I'm hearing things," Toby said.

"Are the voices friendly?" Josh quipped though the friendly jab held no mirth, Toby could sense.

"Not really," Toby replied. "I hear that you're leaving."

"Things change," Josh shrugged and pulled on his coat. "People move on. Leo said that to me; about that, he was right."

"Well, I, for one, would prefer it if you did not go," Toby said with difficulty as he tossed money on the bar to pay for his drink. "If you tell anyone I said that, I'll deny it."

"Don't forget," Josh said as he started toward the door. "We need to talk about Avrill."

"Yeah," Toby agreed. "You talk. I ignore. Sounds like a plan."

_Thursday evening_

_Oval Office—_

Josh shook himself awake as he caught himself dozing while the President spoke about architecture. At least, Josh thought he was talking about architecture. It was the last subject Josh consciously recalled paying any attention to in this discussion. He had staffed the President all day, as he did much of the time, but this had been a light day. With the budget ready to sail through with relative ease after all the early battles had been settled, the year was winding down quickly. Thanksgiving was on the horizon and the days were growing shorter and darker, not unlike Josh's patience with two other senior staffers. For his part, Leo kept their communication terse and short, mostly orders. Josh reported back as needed in as few words as necessary. For that, things were running in an expeditious and efficient manner. As for Sam, he had simply stopped trying to speak to Josh about their situation. Their tasks on any given day were so vastly different that they did not need to speak with each other much. When Josh did need input from the communications side of the house, he sought out Toby.

This new order had not gone unnoticed. Most pretended there were not problems with it and as very little in the way of business were obstructed by it, that was easy. It was the assistants mostly who noticed the change as they found themselves in the uncomfortable position of relaying messages most often between the two camps. The President had let the drama play itself out for a while but he was seeing the toll it was taking on his staffers. What they did about their personal feelings he did not care. But he was worried that it would intersect with their work and that was unacceptable. In the lull of the early evening, he broached the subject with Josh

"Josh?" Bartlet said catching the man's attention.

"Sir?" Josh said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, sir. I… wasn't listening."

"I'd give you points for honesty but I'd have to take them away for ignoring me," Bartlet said. "It's a bit chilly here lately, isn't it?"

"It is?" Josh asked, not noticing any difference in temperature between his office and the Oval.

"The atmosphere," Bartlet said. "What's going on with you and Leo?"

"Nothing," Josh said truthfully.

"The Speaker took a good swing at him in the Times this morning," Bartlet observed.

"I said we can counter his attack on the policy," Josh said. "McKenna can just…"

"I know what you said about the policy," Bartlet said. "I was surprised at what you didn't say about what is obviously a personal attack on Leo in the second part of the article."

"The Speaker is entitled to his opinion, sir," Josh said. "It's not libelous."

Bartlet looked at the man. He had taken the sterile, legal route to answer the question without giving Bartlet and answer. The President hadn't anticipated that exact response. He had expected a resolute denial that there was any tension between the two men.

"What happened after the Ways and Means meeting yesterday?" Bartlet asked.

"Sir?"

"You had a meeting with Leo," Bartlet said. "I overheard a little of it. It was shorter than I expected. You and Leo normally do a longer post mortem than that."

"We covered everything that needed to be covered," Josh answered simply.

"I'm saying the two of you normally plot the demise of the chairman longer than that during your passes through the hallway," Bartlet pointed out. "So I'm asking you, what's going on?"

"Nothing to concern yourself with, sir," Josh assured him.

"All right," he nodded. "You're checking on the final thing with the agriculture subsidies? That's coming up at the economic conference next week."

"Yes sir," Josh nodded and stood to leave. "Ed was supposed to have those for me by now. I'll check."

"I'll wait here with bated breath," Bartlet promised as he looked above the rims of his glasses.

"Thank you, Mr. President," Josh said then departed.

Bartlet shook his head as he watched the man leave. That was another thing he noticed that day. Josh nearly always ended meetings with Leo when the Senior Staff was present the same way. The meeting was over when Josh said "thank you, sir." He no longer did that. It might be nothing, Bartlet knew, but it didn't feel like nothing. He and Josh had spent a long and relatively boring day with half a dozen meetings with various officials on twice as many topics. He saw no point in prodding the man further except that he was seeing the strain on Leo as well. It appeared more pronounced during the day's meetings as Josh practically refused to look in Leo's direction and only responded to him when asked a direct question. Leo had been in on three of that day's meetings. Each time, there was coldness between the two men that Bartlet could not dismiss. There was only one way to find the answers he needed. He summoned Charlie.

"Yes, Mr. President," the aide asked as he entered the room.

"Yeah, what the hell is going on in this building?"

"A lot, I would hope, sir," Charlie offered. "Our tax dollars at work and all."

"You're better than a cliché punch line, Charlie," Bartlet scolded. "I meant between Leo and Josh. What's that about?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, sir," Charlie lied uncomfortably.

"I've asked both of them and they lied to me," Bartlet said. "I don't think this office is the appropriate place for doing that so I'm going to ask you again: What happened?"

Charlie didn't want to say, but the man had asked and he too thought the Oval Office was not the place to lie to your boss—especially when it was his office. The aide took a deep breath and gave the President a brief rundown of what had happened. The President made no comment when Charlie completed the tale and dismissed him with a brief nod as he returned to his reading.

Josh returned to the Oval Office just before 8 p.m. to report the results the President sought on Ag subsidies and also brought information from his conversation with the Justice Department regarding the next round of prosecutions to occur for a drug company that was accused of violating FDA reporting requirements. He completed his briefing quickly and gave the President an overview of what the White House could expect in the way of fall out when it backed a prescription drug pricing bill at the start of the next legislative session. The President thanked him then opted to broach the other topic.

"Josh, I'm not going to tell you how you have to react," Bartlet said.

"I think I'll wait until we get slammed in committee before I…," Josh began.

"Not about that," Bartlet said then looked toward the door leading to Leo's office. "I mean the other thing. I'm not saying you don't have a right to be angry."

"Oh," he replied.

"Josh, I am going to remind you that this job requires a cohesive relationship," Bartlet began again in an earnest tone. "You're Leo's deputy and he depends on you greatly. I'm also going to remind you that we can't do the work we do if we don't trust one another."

"Well, I'd say it's a bit late for that, but I get your point, Mr. President," Josh acquiesced. "I believe I have been professional. If I have acted in any way to make you feel otherwise then I…"

"No, no," the President waved him off. "I didn't mean that you had, though as I mentioned earlier, it is a bit chilly in here these days and it's not just the stiff breeze blowing off the Chesapeake. Our personal feelings sometimes make us do things we wish we hadn't; it's not an excuse, it's just a fact. I don't understand what happened, and I don't need to understand. I also don't want anyone else to know that it happened, which means putting it behind you. Indignation is not something there is room for in this White House."

"I've done my best to be professional, sir," Josh said tensely.

"I know, but you need to do better," Bartlet said.

"Yes, sir."

"I'm not taking sides," Bartlet continued. "From the little I know, I must say you've showed a level of restraint that I was not aware you possessed."

"I get it from my father," Josh shrugged.

"The fiery litigator?"

"Actually, from him and my grandfather's dream about Hitler," Josh said, hoping to move on but realizing his comment prevented that. He was weary, he knew, and knew he should just shut his mouth and let the President finish his lecture so that he could go home.

"I'm sorry?"

"It's nothing," Josh shook his head. He was more tired than he knew and wasn't sure why but stress seemed like a good culprit.

"I can honestly say I've never had a member of my staff give credit to Adolf Hitler—especially in the Oval Office," the President said intrigued. "I certainly never expected it from you."

"Not the man, a dream of him," Josh said, feeling the need to explain his odd remark. "It's nothing, sir. It's…. My grandfather—my mother's father—was a jeweler. He had a comfortable life in New York. My father was from a different world economically and socially. My grandfather didn't like him. He especially didn't like the work he did. He wanted my father to cease his litigation career and go into something he thought was more respectable, like estate planning."

"A trial attorney wasn't good enough for his little girl," Bartlet surmised with a grin.

"Not by a long shot," Josh agreed. "My grandfather was a talented jeweler, I'm told. Creative and all that. Successful without really trying. He didn't think much of ambition—it worried him. My father was aggressive and ambitious so he…"

"Scared the hell out of him?"

"Without even trying," Josh answered easily and proudly.

"So your father's career progresses and it just gets worse," Bartlet inferred.

"Yeah," Josh nodded, taking a seat on the couch as the President gestured. "My father wasn't a puritan with the law; he didn't only take those cases he believed were right. He was an ethical man for sure, but he took cases he thought he could win. Sometimes, they weren't popular cases within my grandfather's circle. Apparently, my grandfather got fed up with reading and hearing from his cronies at the country club about his son-in-law."

"This came to a head at some point?"

"Oh yeah," Josh nodded as the member rose fresh in his mind. "I remember this like it was yesterday. I was maybe eight. We were sitting at this long table in my grandparent's home on Long Island. It was a holiday or something, Passover maybe; I just remember that the weather was warm and there was this huge meal on the table with the good china that I wasn't supposed to really touch. Anyway, my grandfather yelled at my father. He said that every week he had the same nightmare; he would read in the paper the Hitler was alive and had asked my father to defend him. My grandfather looks right at my father asks: Noah, would you take the case and win or would you kill him?"

"Interesting choices?" Bartlet asked curiously. "Did you father have an answer?"

"Always," Josh smirked. "He said he'd take the case without that hesitation.'"

"He would?"

"Yeah," Josh answered and dropped unconsciously into an imitation of his father. "He said: _Jonah, I'd take the case; I'd win it and then I'd kill the son of a bitch—after I got paid."_

Bartlet chuckled at the both the imitation of the man he had never met as well as the sentiment it expressed.

"Anyway," Josh sighed, grinning briefly at the memory, "his point is my point. The job is the job, Mr. President. I can do what I'm charged to do without liking who I work with; it doesn't have to affect my results."

Bartlet sighed. He nodded as Josh stood waiting to be dismissed.

"Is that all, sir?"

"How is Donna?"

"She's fine," Josh said automatically.

"I'm prying," Bartlet informed him. "I know about… I know. Donna spoke to Abbey; Abbey told me."

"Oh," Josh said and suddenly found his shoes fascinating. "She's fine for now, sir."

"I understand you both want to keep your privacy and don't want sympathy, but I'd like to say I'm sorry all the same," Bartlet offered.

"Thank you, sir," Josh answered quietly.

"Go home, Josh," the President said.

"Good night, Mr. President."

**Up next: (Chapter 18): Impact Tremors**


	18. Impact Tremors

**Title: Heaven and Hell:** **_Impact Tremors _(Chapter 18)**

**Authors**: Enigmatic Ellie and Westwinger247

**Webpage**: 

**Email:** or 

**Notes**: _Ha! The December surprise! Two chapters in less than a week. No one could have predicted this. You gotta know knocking out these two so close together was exhausting so the series will be going back to a more "spread out" publishing schedule. _

_Lyman House, _

_Sunday afternoon—_

Donna read the paper in silence in the kitchen as Josh pretended to read the OpEd page. He had been on the page for over an hour signaling to her that he wasn't reading. He could devour half of the New York Times in that period; the two page OpEd section in the Post should not have presented this kind of challenge.

"Okay, I can't stand it," she huffed. "What is it?"

"It's a newspaper," he said.

"No, what's bugging you?" she asked. "You've been moping and gloomy for a while now and I thought it was about… you know, but now I don't think so. Every other day you make some comment about your resume, New York or the Vice President. Josh, what's going on?"

"It's nothing to worry about," he assured her.

"Don't lie to me," she snapped. "Josh, you go to these dark and quiet places in your mind and I can't reach you there. That's fine in a regular day, but I need you…. here."

"What?" he asked startled as tears filled her eyes. "I'm sorry. I've just… I'm thinking it may be time for a change. A big one and…"

"That's not it," she said. "Not all of it. Josh, is Leo going to fire you? Did you do something?"

"No, I didn't," he said firmly. "He can do whatever the hell he…"

Donna sighed. She had heard rumors and most of them were consistent. She heard about a fight in the Roosevelt Room. She heard about Sam and his grand plan. She heard about Leo and his agreement. She heard about John Hoynes and his offer. She heard about all of them from someone other than the man sitting opposite her at their kitchen table. She did not think it odd that Josh had kept the information to himself. On some level, she suspected he enjoyed the pain it caused him; suffering alone and in silence was his M.O.

"So it's true," she said. "What they did, it's true?"

Josh sighed and tried to change the subject several times, but she would not be dissuaded. Finally, he could see she already knew the story so confessing his knowledge about it could cause her no harm. He explained his reasoning for not sharing it with her—knowing she had greater and more important worries on her mind. She accepted that reason though she did not like nor did she approve of it. She did not counsel him on how he should feel or behave or forgive. She wasn't sure she had those answers.

"So?" he said after she had remained silent for longer than expected.

"I guess that's that," she said calmly though her voice sounded shaky. "At least now I know."

"Are you okay?"

"I guess I'm like you," she said. "I don't have a choice."

Josh let the subject drop. They had little to say to each other for the rest of the morning. Sunday was always an odd day at their house. Normally, Josh would go into the office for an hour or two. Previously, Donna would join him in due time, though in recent weeks she had not felt well enough to do so. For that reason, Josh had been sticking closer to home during his time off in case she needed him. The days were normally quiet. They found they had little to say to each other at this point though it did not feel like a stilted silence in the big house. It was more of a hush before the expected damage of a storm looming on the horizon.

The weekend faded into memory and the start of the working week arrived. Josh had an early morning meeting with several southern Democrats from the House which left Donna with some free time in her schedule immediately upon arriving at the White House. She placed her coat on her chair and made her way to the Communications Bullpen. She was glad to find it mostly empty as every was scurrying around gearing up for the week. However, Sam was in his office. Donna knocked on the door frame and entered when he beckoned. She closed the door behind herself and took a deep breath.

"You're looking positively radiant," Sam said as an opener as he started to usher her to a chair.

He was standing beside her when her palm flew through the air swiftly and struck him soundly on the cheek. The slap sounded in his ears longer than it stung on his cheek. He froze in place but managed to turn his startled eyes toward her to see the tears blistering in the corners of her eyes.

"How could you think so little of me?" she asked, keeping her voice as even as possible. "How could you have so little faith in Josh?"

"I'm sorry," he said instantly. "I… He told you?"

"I'm his wife," she said.

"I know that," Sam replied. "Donna, it was stupid. We were wrong. I'm sorry. There's nothing more I can say or do."

"I know," she said taking a deep breath and turning to leave. However, before she got to the door she turned back and hugged him. "I'm sorry, too. Sam, it's not like you to hurt someone just because you can."

"That wasn't what I was doing," he said, confused by her mixed reaction, but liking the second half of the conversation more than the first. "I was scared."

"I know the feeling," she said and looked down. "I'm still disappointed in you."

"I'm disappointed in me, too," he confessed. "Are we okay now?"

"No," she sniffled. "But we will be."

"I know Josh is….," Sam began then shrugged as his voice trailed off.

"Yeah," Donna nodded. "But I'm done with this. What's left is between the two of you."

Sam nodded and let her leave. He sat at his desk and felt better about the situation than he had in weeks. If anyone had the right to be unforgivably angry, it was Donna, he thought. But she had gone from assaulting him to semi-consoling him in a matter of minutes. He hoped that boded well for the future.

Donna went back to her desk. Unlike Josh, she did not believe Leo was as complicit in the charade as Sam. From Josh's explanation, Leo merely knew of Sam's fears and his asinine undertaking. Josh was hurting over Sam's lack of faith in him as much as he professed he was smarting from Leo's lack of trust. She did not feel the sting as much of whatever Leo had done. For Josh, that was a person slight. Donna saw no need to confront Leo. She held no ill will toward him. She did not think quite as highly of him as she once did, but he was still someone she could respect. She suspected Josh felt the same way but was having a harder time remembering that.

_The White House_

_Tuesday, __2 p.m.__—_

Leo finished his lunch at his desk and tried not to think about the way a good pastrami sandwich on rye was ruined by a Styrofoam container. Wax paper, he thought, whatever happened to wrapping them in waxed paper? An the only thing more annoying than a good sandwich tainted by poor packaging was the nagging he got from Margaret for ordering that food for his lunch. She would undoubtedly bring grapefruit and horse oats to him for dinner no matter what he requested.

"Hey Daddy," Mallory said as she knocked on the door.

"Hey, baby," Leo grinned widely as he stood to greet her. "What's this?"

"Your coat," she answered handing him the dark, wool garment.

"My coat's in the closet," he answered.

"Your other coat is in the closet," she replied. "This is the one I borrow about a year and a half ago. The play at school, we needed a prop and ours was stolen."

"So you took mine because what would I need a coat for," Leo shook his head as he looked at the topcoat. "What's this?"

"That's lipstick," Mallory answered with a grimace.

"I don't usually wear lipstick," he said.

"It was a play, daddy," she chided him. "It's stage make-up. It'll come out. I brought it to the drycleaner's after the show."

"That's a long wait for a job they didn't finish," he remarked looking at the bright red stain that shown clearly on the dark fibers.

"I forgot I dropped it off," Mallory sighed. "I brought a few other things in this morning and they said they found this on their forgotten and found rack. My tag was still on it."

"So is the lipstick," Leo said.

"They never cleaned it," Mallory explained. "They sort of lost it in the shuffle, too. They offered to clean it, but I figured you probably had a more reliable cleaner."

"Yeah," Leo said, draping the coat over the back of a chair. As he did so, a photo slid out of the interior pocket and fluttered to the floor.

"Oh, you dropped this," Mallory said as she stooped to retrieve the picture. "What's this? Daddy, that's you, isn't it?"

Leo took the picture in his fingers and stared at it for a long moment. It was. He was puzzled as to why the photo was in the pocket until the image of a snowy day in New Hampshire surfaced in his mind. He looked at the faces of the other two in the picture and sighed.

"When was this taken?" Mallory asked, taking the photo from him and looking at the back for a date but finding none. "Where was this taken?"

"The house on Long Island," he answered. "You were a little girl then."

"I thought I recognized the hedges," she said. "Who are these people?"

"The man is Noah Lyman," Leo said.

"It is?" Mallory marveled. "So that has to be Josh. Wow, does he even pay that close attention to you now? Daddy, where did you get this? Daddy?"

Leo said nothing. He returned to his desk and looked at the pages scattered on the surface. Many of them were synopsis memos from his Deputy who found it easier to summarize his points in writing than meeting face-to-face with Leo lately. They still held the meetings, but the points he needed to make were articulated in greater detail in the memos and in the email and the various message shuttled to Leo through Margaret and Toby. He didn't think Josh was specifically avoiding him, but it felt like it. There was nothing wrong with the current state of communication except that Leo felt the distance acutely. It wasn't that he missed the interaction personally. In fact, his day went more smoothly without Josh under foot. What bothered Leo mostly was the shame he felt.

"Daddy, what's going on?" Mallory asked with concern as she saw the strange expression on her father's face. "Do you feel all right? Are you sick?"

"Sick of myself, maybe," he said. "Thanks for the coat, Mal. No school today?"

"In service day," she responded. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Oh would you please," Leo scowled, dropping the picture onto the pile of pages waiting to be read. "I was sick last year. This year is someone else's turn."

She accepted the answer though she did not believe it. Margaret would tell her for certain. She was loyal to Leo the way the sun is to the moon, ever in tandem, one following the other. However, her loyal was to his well being rather than his ego. If he wanted to pretend all was well to keep up his invincibility façade, that was fine with Mallory. She knew Margaret would tell her all she needed to know.

"Well, I won't keep you," Mallory said. "Enjoy your new coat."

"It's my old coat and I enjoyed before it was stolen," Leo grumbled.

"Well then you can relive old memories with it," she smiled and left his office.

She found Margaret returning from the Mess, having taken a few minutes to feed herself while the boss ate the sort of meal to which she objected. After sorting through the dietary woes in Leo's life, Mallory latched on to a detail that did concern her. Much of the senior staff was dear to her father in a cantankerous way and none more so than Josh, Mallory knew. She knew from the way the younger man vexed him and worried him; Josh was a valuable asset politically and he was fearless in his pursuit of success on behalf of the President. But his relationship with the Chief of Staff was different than the others. Each had a special bond with the man, but Josh's was deeper. Mallory recalled the conversation with her father after the shooting at Rosslyn. She had called to see if he was all right, though she knew the casualties already from watching CNN. He had spoken with the President and even taken a short walk with the man, but Josh was still in danger. He said only that he was concerned about Josh, but his voice had quavered slightly as he said it and it nearly reduced Mallory to tears. She had never seen her father cry and even hearing the hint of tears in his voice filled her with dread.

As Margaret finished explaining what she knew from the White House rumor mill, Mallory only nodded. She had no trouble imagining that any scheme to keep the campaign focused seemed reasonable and rational as the election marched closer. She didn't excuse anyone's actions and from what the assistant said, she was not the only one who was shocked by the news of the manipulation. She had been certain for some time that there was practically nothing Josh would not do for her father; finding out the same was not true in the opposite, must have been difficult to take from his mentor, she supposed. She opted not to return to her father's office. She had nothing to say to him about the shenanigans. It was none of her business and she did not think her father needed a lecture from her on it.

She merely thanked Margaret and headed toward the lobby to exit the building. As she did, she looked down the hall and saw Donna handing a note to Josh as he walked past her at his normally brisk pace. Mallory knew they were expecting a child in the spring and had been happy for them; what she learned from Margaret made her feel ashamed so she quickened her gait so as not to encounter them. She didn't know what she would say.

"Hey there stranger," Sam said as he rounded the corner and spotted her.

"You're a greedy, selfish, egomaniacal, pig," she responded.

"Okay," he nodded, accepting the words in a gracious fashion. "And it's good to see you, too."

"In all that research you've done over the years to craft your beautiful phrases, did you ever look up the word friendship in the dictionary?" she asked.

"I…., uh, no," he answered. "I think I have a firm grasp of…. Oh, you know."

Mallory shook her head and walked away quickly. Sam remained, his momentary feeling of reprieve from the dark and cold atmosphere he often felt in the building now vanished quickly. He hung his head and walked back toward the Oval Office where he was expected to brief the President. He was informed by Charlie that the President was running late with the East Asia advisors and would be back in 20 minutes. Sam accepted the schedule change and wandered back down the hall.

"Sam, do you have the draft on the UN speech done?" Leo asked as he appeared in the corridor.

"Yeah," he said, reaching into his folder and pulling out the sheets. "The President is running late."

"Yeah," Leo nodded taking the pages. "I'll do this and we'll let you know."

"She knows," Sam said sullenly.

"Who knows?"

"Mallory," Sam said. "About me. About Josh. About Josh and me."

"She does?'

"She just told me," Sam said. "Actually, she called me a selfish egomaniacal pig who had never read a dictionary, but I could read between the lines. This whole thing blew up weeks ago. Why is there still fall out?"

"Impact tremors," Leo sighed. "A bombshell hits in one place and the ground shakes in another."

"So physics," Sam nodded. "I was never great at physics. I liked it, found it fascinating, but I was never great at it. That's why I went to law school. Maybe if I'd studied harder, I'd understand more."

"You and me both," Leo sighed then walked back toward his office.

_Capitol Hill_

_Wednesday—_

Toby scowled as he and Josh walked down the lonely corridor of Rayburn building. Congress was done for the session, but that didn't mean the dealing and politicking was on holiday. The White House had sufficient support for the changes to the hate crime bill passed several years earlier. However, much of that support had come with a hefty price. There was to be reopened discussions on agriculture subsidies, discussion on parental notification for abortion and talks on modifying CARE, the air quality legislation that had been the White House's gem in its environmental policy.

"Why is it no one ever wants to talk about poverty?" Toby grumbled. "It's the holiday season. People, just blocks from here, are hungry and have no homes. Poverty is actually the single greatest threat facing this country today—12 million children living in poverty; every 53 minutes a child dies from issues related to poverty; it will cost the nation 100 billion dollars in the next generation in the losses to the economy, but nobody wants to get on their soap box about that. Why?"

"We were talking to the majority leader," Josh reminded him.

"When poverty is the majority, guys like that won't be leaders," Toby seethed.

"Yes, they will," Josh sighed, not caring about anything in particular at the moment.

He was glad for the long weekend. The next day was Thanksgiving and his mother was flying in that evening. It was going to be tough on Donna, he knew. His mother had been excited to the point of tears on the phone when they contacted her and told her Donna was pregnant. Josh felt sick inside as he did so but that feeling was quickly eclipsed by his feelings of shame after hoping that the problem would terminate itself before his mother arrived. So far, it hadn't, though Donna indicated she was feel worse in recent days and had been complaining of muscle spasms and acute, stabbing back pains that lasted only momentarily but that she was certain were signs. Her doctor must have agreed because she left the office early that day for an unscheduled doctor's appointment. Josh had not heard from her in the last three hours and was growing concerned.

"Mr. Lyman," called the voice of a young man.

Josh turned to see Dennis Benchley, a staffer in the majority leader's office, trotting toward them holding a slip of paper and a cellphone.

"What?" Josh asked as he and Toby paused in their exit.

"You left your phone," Benchley said handing it to him with a piece of paper. "You also received a call."

"You answered my phone?" Josh asked sharply.

"No," he shook his head quickly. "The call came in to our office. It was for you. It's a little confusing. The caller-ID said it was from the White House, but she wasn't at the White House."

"Who?"

"Your wife," the man explained. "It was kind of hard to understand her. She was sort of crying. I don't have any details. She was looking for you and I said you'd just left."

"Did she say where she was?" Josh asked, flipping open his phone and seeing the ringer was off and there were three messages waiting for him.

"No, I'm sorry," the man said with a shrug. "I'm sorry."

Josh nodded and walked away quickly, tapping into his voicemail. The first two messages were not from Donna. The third was. She was difficult to understand as she was upset, crying as the Benchley indicated. She was at home when she called him. She didn't give details, at least none Josh could understand, but she did ask that he come home.

Without a word to Toby, Josh dashed out of the building and to his car. He drove quickly away from the White House and toward his home—forgetting that he and Toby had traveled to Capitol Hill in his car and that he had stranded Toby on the day before Thanksgiving a dozen blocks from the office when every cab in the city was at the airport shuttling travelers out of town.

He arrived at the house within 20 minutes, glad the traffic had not been heavy in the district. Donna's car was in the garage though it was parked at a slight angle as if she was not paying attention when she placed it there. He noted his hands were shaking as he placed them on the door knob. He wasn't sure what he would find inside. If the worst had happened, he couldn't understand why the doctor had let her go home. If it was about to happen, he wasn't sure what she would need: a ride to the hospital or an ambulance. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

Josh could hear Donna murmuring to someone as he entered the house. He walked on stiff knees down the hall and into the living room to find her. She was on the phone, sniffling, and wiping tears from her moistened cheeks. Her eyes were swollen and red rimmed. She looked up as he said he name softly.

"Josh is home, Mom," she sniffled into the phone. "I'll call you back…. Yes, I will."

Josh's throat was try and ached as Donna turned to him. She mumbled something that was swallowed by a sobbing noise as she stepped toward him and laced her arms around his neck and began to cry while trying to speak.

"What?" he asked as she hugged him tightly. "Donna? I got your message. I couldn't understand you. What's wrong? What do you need?"

"I'm sorry," she said, finally getting out words he could understand. "I'm sorry for all of this."

"Hey," he said, stepping back from her so that he could see her face as he spoke. "You don't need to apologize to me. Just tell me…"

"You'd better sit down," she said, wiping her eyes again.

_Office of the Chief of Staff_

_Wednesday, __5:22 p.m.__—_

Several members of the senior staff were gathered in Leo's office for a short poker game prior to returning home for the holiday weekend. The President was joining them as there had been a delay in his schedule while they waited for his daughter Ellie to arrive from Baltimore. She was completing an exam that needed to be rescheduled for reasons Bartlet didn't remember being told. Marine One was due to lift off from the South Lawn no later than 7 p.m. so that he and his family could board Air Force One for the 45 minute flight to New Hampshire. While he waited, they played cards.

"Okay, last hand for me," Sam announced as the President dealt out the cards and the speechwriter viewed the few remaining chips in front of him. "I have to get home and pack for my flight."

"Sam, for what it's worth, it's not Thanksgiving if you can get sunburn during dinner," Toby remarked. His flight to New York did not leave until 9 and he was already packed.

"It's not Thanksgiving without leaves turning and wind whistling," Bartlet remarked as he looked skeptically at his cards. "Anybody know why the leaves change color?"

"Does anybody care?" Toby asked then paused. "Hey, what time is it?"

"About 5:30," Leo responded. "You need to be somewhere?"

"Not yet," Toby replied and fixed his gaze on his hand. "I was just.... wondering."

"You seem worried, Toby," Bartlet remarked. "I pardoned a Turkey today—my approval rating should be sufficient to get us through the weekend."

"It's not that, sir," Toby said, debating whether he should call Josh to see how things were going. The look on Josh's face as he received the message when they left the meeting on the Hill bothered Toby. He did not want to pry and yet he knew enough about what was going on to be worried. He had been through miscarriages with his ex-wife and none of them were easy, but he recalled the first being the hardest.

"He's been brooding all afternoon, Mr. President," Sam offered. "He swears the meeting with Clarendon and Soren went fine even though not much moved, but I think he's holding out on us."

"It's not that," Toby shook his head. He looked up to see the President eyeing him directly. "Josh went home early. Donna called him."

"Oh," Bartlet said and looked down at the table and shook his head slowly. "I see."

"See what?" Leo asked, observing the silent communication between the men. "Are we in trouble with Interstate Commerce?"

"No," Bartlet said. "This isn't about the bill. You haven't heard from him, Toby?"

"No, and I didn't think it was my place to call," Toby said. "I understand the desire for privacy in this."

Bartlet nodded and sighed.

"I'm sorry, privacy for what?" Sam asked. His own patience with Josh's lack of patience for him had grown thin a while ago, but Donna had come around quickly enough. Sam did not like the dower look in Toby's eyes. While not normally a peppy person, there were levels to his typically somber expressions and the one Sam was seeing at that moment was one that usually denoted sympathy. "What am I missing?"

"Obviously the same thing I am," Leo said as the game continued. "What's going on? Is Donna sick?"

No one said anything for several seconds. Bartlet continued the game.

"That's a two for Leo, no help," Bartlet said dealing out the cards. "Sam has a possible straight; Toby, possible straight and the dealer gets a seven, No luck."

"Toby?" Leo asked directly. "Is she all right?"

"Sir," Toby said addressing the President rather than answering Leo's question. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were dealing me off the bottom."

"Prove it," Bartlet said. "Bet or fold."

"Your two and seven give me hope," Toby said and shook his head. "I raise."

"Toby, what's wrong with Donna?" Sam asked, alarmed at the avoidance of the question and no longer interested in the game.

"I don't know," Toby said then sighed. "She's sick or the baby is; I don't really have the details."

"Is it serious?" Leo asked and placed his cards on the table. "I fold."

"It's nothing, forget I said anything," Toby shook his head. "Sam?"

"Fold," he said not caring about the straight he had that could likely beat whatever the President was holding. "You just said it was something. What's going on?"

"Final card; face down," Bartlet said as laid the card in front of Toby and then to himself.

"Toby?" Leo asked firmly.

"Why is it the only secrets we can keep in this place are these kind?" Toby asked. "It's not my place to say but yes, something has been going on. As I said, I don't have a lot of details and what I do know was told to me in confidence weeks ago. It's... there's a problem they think, and there's nothing they can do about it apparently. The doctors said there's really no chance that she can have the baby. They've just been waiting for whatever to happen."

Silence filled the room again. Toby tossed his last chips onto the table and regretted saying anything. He also regretted that there was a rift within the senior staff so deep that this information was coming as a surprise to any of them. Not that they each knew everything about each other's personal lives, but Toby suspected there would have been at least a greater sensitivity or at least cognizance of the worry the Deputy Chief of Staff and his wife were experiencing for the last several weeks.

"Mr. President," Charlie interrupted from the doorway. "Ellie's here. Mrs. Bartlet said they'll be ready to go at any time."

"That's my cue to exit stage left," Bartlet said, laying his cards on the table. "I think we'll call this hand a draw. Leo, cash me out when you're finished. Have a good Thanksgiving."

"Thank you, Mr. President," Leo said standing along with the others as the man left the room.

"Have a good trip, sir," Sam said then turned his attention to Toby who began stacking his chips as he felt the game was over for the evening. "Toby, if you know all this, why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I know that they prefer to keep their private life private," Toby said sharply.

"Toby," Leo warned and shook his head.

"No, look, everyone on this room knows about the blow up the three of you had last month," Toby said in frustration. "The big, white elephant shows up every time either of you are in a room with him. We can all see it. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of Josh resenting the hell out of your two; I'm tired of pretending that none of us notice it. I'm tired of making up excuses for any of you. Josh is not blameless in all this, but considering what's going on in his world, I'm coming down on his side this time."

"Toby, it wasn't personal," Sam said, glad that the President was no longer in the room for this discussion. Though he had said nothing when the discussion started, Sam had felt like he was disappointed in all involved as if they'd been caught having a keg party in the East Room.

"Yes, it was, Sam," Toby shook his head and replied in a weary fashion. "It was and even if it wasn't Josh is taking it personally. Good for him. He finally started taking his personal life personally. I know he's got more than a few bugs in the software, but if ever I had any doubt about his ability to focus on his job and have a life outside these walls, it was cured during the run off when the House was going to vote. Donna gets a medal for her performance, too. And now I've been watching them for the last few weeks, and other than you noticing he seemed to have a less than chipper attitude around you and Leo, you had no idea the hell their living. You're still so wrapped up in asserting your situational ethics of what you did that you can't see the reason he's so mad. You taught him a bad and false lesson; you made him think that the one thing he never questioned was just an illusion."

"Our support," Sam surmised and sank back into his chair.

"Yeah," Toby replied. "He doesn't need your respect or admiration. He already knows he's good at his job. He needed people he could count on and he doesn't think he's got that any more. He's mad at the world for doing this thing to him, just like it's done time and again, only this time its hurting Donna, too. That probably hurts him more. Both of you let him know he had misjudged his faith in you. He doesn't have faith in a lot. I didn't realize how little he has faith until recently, but what little he had rested mostly in the people in this room."

"We said we were sorry," Leo said. "I'm not sure there's anything else we can do. What's done is done."

"Yeah, you say that, but your as much a part of it still as he is," Toby informed them. "You get angrier with him every day, Leo, just because he won't accept your apology. You even asked him to resign because he had the gall to be pissed at you. I know you have a point, but so does he. But every day he comes back here and does what he's supposed to do. He doesn't quit--he's had some lucrative offers lately. You think he's no longer your lieutenant ready to shield you and this office from whatever gets hurled at it any more? He's making you mad, but I've noticed that he doesn't go so far that you have to get rid of him. You think he's being childish? Well, so do I. But I don't see this is a just a temper tantrum. I look at him and I see the kid who lost everything and keeps going back to the places where it all used to be hoping that it'll show up again."

"Offers?" Sam asked, figuring Toby mentioned it because they were more than just the normal offers much of the staff received. "What offers?"

"There are two in New York that I know of," Toby said. "Starting salary is in the high six figures. There are a couple here in DC. One from Hoynes even."

"Josh would never work for Hoynes again," Leo assured him. "And he's not materialistic. Money isn't going to lure him away."

"It doesn't have to," Toby chuckled at the naivety. "You and Sundance here practically drove him away. He doesn't want to leave, but he may just want to end some of the insanity in his world and leaving this place may be the easiest way to do that. If you were going to leave work you love, wouldn't nearly a million dollars a year be a nice incentive for the pain to go away?"

_Lyman House_

_5:48 p.m.__—_

Josh remained still, unsure whether any of this was real. He could hear his own heart beating which he supposed was a good sign because it meant he was not dying of a heart attack and this moment was not a hallucination. He looked back at Donna who smiled beneath her shower of tears. His mouth felt dry as he tried to form words after processing her report.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked.

"Yes," she assured him as she gripped his hands, trying not to laugh openly about the dumbfounded and stunned look on his face.

"And you're crying because..."

"Because I'm happy," she explained.

"Yeah, I don't understand women," he shook his head.

"No kidding," she chided. "Josh, snap out of this. This is good news."

"Twins?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "And we're fine. Everyone."

"How?" he asked, certain she had explained it once already but those moments were still a blur to him.

"There are six tests," she said in an elementary fashion, sympathizing with his befuddlement. She felt much the same way three hours earlier when the doctors gave her the news. "I had two done when Frannie asked me to try and help her years ago. On the scale of one to seven, I was a six both times. That's all it takes. They didn't bother to do the other tests because you couldn't be high in those first two and have any hope with the rest."

"So the tests were wrong?" Josh surmised.

"No," Donna said. "They were correct. But in the last decade, they've done more research into the enzymes that they think causes that condition. Anyway, I'm barely a one on the third test, so none of what I was told initially means anything."

"And you're just finding out now?"

"It takes months to process everything," she explained. "I have no symptoms of the placental degeneration. There are no lesions; no hemorrhaging. Everything is normal—except for that other thing."

"Other thing?" he repeated.

"Yes," she chuckled, stroking his cheek as she watched the news continue to sink in. "Two babies, Josh. We're having two. Two healthy, normal, beautiful, perfect babies."

"They're sure?" he asked still skeptical. He had lived for months with the opposite being reality and it did not seem possible or likely in his world that such a turn of fate was possible.

"I even have pictures to prove it," she smiled. "So I gotta ask you: Who da man?"

"What?" he replied then relented a weary and still puzzled grin then pointed to himself. "I guess that would be me."

Donna kissed him then quickly ran through her story again from the moment she arrived at the doctor's office until the moment he returned home. Her head was spinning still but there was no doubt in her mind that this was real. She was not done with her presentation though. She had promised him she had pictures and she was determined to show them. The still pictures would not interest him as much in this state, she knew. However, the live action images from the sonogram would. She put the tape of the scan into the VCR and joined Josh on the couch again and began to narrate the movie.

"What am I looking at?" Josh asked as the picture began.

"That right there in the center of the screen is our son," Donna said pointing at the TV. "In another second, right there, he turned toward us. He's posing for the camera, so to speak. I think he likes being the center of attention. Guess who he reminds me of?"

"Your brother Ralph?" Josh asked as he tilted his head to the side to look carefully at the image in the screen.

It wasn't a clear image, mostly a grayish blur of fluttering shapes. Donna had explained that in a few more weeks a second sonogram would be done using the three-dimensional technology which would allow them to see the faces of the babies. However, this pass was merely to check that the organ development was on schedule and there were no problems. She again explained that the lesions that were expected were no where in sight, further confirming the doctor's rescinding of Donna's earlier diagnosis.

"Okay, that's all we have of him," Donna said as the screen went to black after several minutes. "Next up, is his roommate."

"Roommate?"

"Humor me," she ordered. "I just found out I have two people subletting my body."

The next image came into view. It was also grainy but did not seem to move as much.

"That's her?" Josh asked.

"Uh huh," Donna nodded, dabbing her eyes with a tissue again as the tears welled up. "That's our daughter."

"They don't have names," Josh said suddenly, sounding concerned about the prospect.

"We have time to make some decisions," Donna said.

"What is that?" Josh asked staring at the screen. "A foot or a hand?"

"That's a foot," Donna replied. "She's sort of sideways in there right now."

"Okay, so was I crazy before because when I looked at the other one, I thought he might be sucking his thumb," Josh remarked.

"Yeah," Donna nodded. "That's what it looked like to me and the doctor as well."

"He shouldn't do that," Josh said. "It can't be good for his teeth."

"He doesn't have teeth yet," Donna said, smirking at her husband's foggy expression. The news was still sinking in, she could tell. He had handled the initial announcement well but he was still processing most of it.

"I knew that," Josh answered. "Why doesn't she do anything? He sucks his thumb and mugs for the machine. She's just… lays there. Nothing."

"Maybe she was asleep," Donna said. "It's nothing to be concerned about; maybe she's just more like me."

"Then shouldn't she be following him around inside there with notebook, index cards and a scheduler?" he asked.

She gaped at him for a moment but opted not to pinch him as was her desire for two reasons. One was that he might not notice it; the second was that she looked at the clock and realized more time had passed than she was initially aware. They had a guest coming and were expected to pick her up at the airport shortly.

"Josh," Donna gasped, turning off the TV and receiving a questioning and disappointed look from him. "You can look at this and fill out their college entrance forms later. Right now, you have to leave."

"Leave?" he asked. "Okay, 10 seconds ago you were all happy and this was the greatest day of your life. Now you're throwing me out of the house because of a scheduler joke?"

"No, because it's the day before Thanksgiving," Donna said.

"Yeah," he nodded, not seeing any obvious connections for a moment. However, after several seconds of an expectant stare from Donna it hit him. "My mother."

"Yes, Anna," Donna said struggling to a standing position as Josh jumped up from his seat and glared at his watch. "I forgot. Call her. She has a cell phone."

"When does she land?"

"Uh," Donna paused and tried hard to recall the flight and arrival time. "At six, I think, but it's the holidays, Josh. She won't be on time. Don't worry."

"I said I'd be there," Josh replied and hurried to grab his coat.

"Hey," Donna said, catching up to him and halting his retreat. "You're not late and even if you are, she has to deplane and get her bags. You have time."

"Right," he nodded and looked in a futile effort for his keys. Donna figured out what he was doing and walked to the table in the hallway and lifted the key chain from the spot where he left it.

"I'm the one who has the fluctuating hormones that cause memory lapse," she informed him. "What's your excuse?"

"What?"

"Are you okay to drive?" she chuckled. "Josh, maybe you should just call her and tell her to take a cab."

"I can't do that to my mother," he replied. "I'm fine. I'm just…"

"Focus on driving," Donna said, knowing he would be able to but feeling he needed reminding all the same. "And don't tell her anything. I want to do this together."

Josh nodded and left. Donna considered calling after him as she realized he had left his top coat on the chair but decided not to. The drive to National was not that long and it wasn't too cold outside.

_National__Airport__6:38 p.m.__—_

Josh arrived at the baggage return after fighting traffic and finding a parking spot. He was pleased he recalled she was arriving at National rather than taking a pointless trip to Dulles. However, even with the proper location, he was still late as he found his mother waiting for him near the baggage carousel.

"I was begging to feel unwanted," Anna said as she held up her cellphone. "Thank goodness Donna uses technology. She wanted to let you know you left you coat at home, by the way. Really, Joshua. It's practically winter. You'll catch a cold."

"I'm fine," he assured her, pleased she was not angry despite being made to wait.

"Oh, darling," Anna sighed then hugged him and kissed his cheek. "You look tired. You need to rest more."

"Mother," he groaned, waiting for the normal list of things she did not like about his job.

"Are you all right?" she asked as he took her bag and began to lead her out of the airport. "You look dazed. Do you feel well?"

"It's been a weird day," Josh said.

"Why?" she asked in a concerned tone. "Donna sounded like she had been crying. How is she? The other day, my neighbor Bernice Steinhour was asking how you and she and the baby were doing."

"What did you say?" Josh asked, trying to obey Donna's wishes.

"I said all three of you were doing well," Anna answered.

"Well, then you'll need to issue a correction," Josh said as the reached the end of the moving sidewalk and prepared to exit into the parking lot.

"Why?" Anna asked as she stopped dead in her tracks. "Something's wrong, isn't it?"

"Not exactly," Josh said, realizing she was no longer beside him. He turned back to address her. "I just meant that it's not the three of us anymore."

"Oh, dear god," Anna gasped and placed her hand to her mouth.

"It's four," Josh said quickly, sorry he had worried her unnecessarily.

"I'm sorry?"

"They thought Donna was sick all this time and it turns out she's not," Josh confessed. "And today her doctor had some other news for her as well. She's having twins."

Anna bowed her head as a wide smile spread over her face. She placed both of her hands over her heart and blinked back several tiny and surprised tears of joy.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again," she scolded as she hugged him. "You have your father's sensitivity about things, you know that? I always thought his way was because he thought he was in front of a jury all the time. But you…"

"Sorry," Josh said earnestly. "I didn't mean to scare you. This is sort of news to me, too. She just told me in the last hour."

"You must be so happy," she said taking his hand and leading him in search of the car.

"I feel like I got hit in the head with a baseball bat, but Donna appears mostly unconcerned about that," Josh said.

They returned to Josh's home with very little discussion. Josh thought it odd his mother didn't have more questions, but then he recalled she had not been privy to the entire saga. He concentrated on the road and returned them to the house to find Donna waiting with pizza recently delivered to serve as a meal as neither she nor Josh were likely up to anything more complicated for a meal.

Anna entered the house in front of Josh, leaving him to carry her bag, and made a bee line toward Donna who greeted them from the dining room where she was getting out plates for the take-out meal. Anna embraced her instantly.

"He told you," Donna huffed, as she hugged her mother-in-law and glared at Josh. "I wanted to tell you together."

"He's a bit of a know-it-all sometimes," Anna consoled her. "You can tell me if you want to."

"But you already know," Donna sniffled.

"I don't mind hearing it again," Anna said fussing over her.

"We're having two babies," Donna said, tears spilling over her eyelids again. "I didn't think we'd even have one…"

"I know," Anna said, taking a napkin from the table for Donna to dry her eyes. "I've been so worried. I pray for you all the time."

"Wait," Josh interrupted. "You know? You know what?"

"Patricia told me," Anna explained.

She informed them that when they called and gave her the news several weeks ago she was troubled by their lack of enthusiasm. She did not buy her son's explanation that they were both just too surprised by the news. Rather than pry information out of him, Anna had called Donna's mother who, unaware they were attempting to shield others from the truth, told her the whole story.

"Let that be a lesson," Anna said to Donna. "No one can keep a secret from me for very long."

"She should work for the CIA," Josh agreed and received nasty glares from both women.

_White House_

_Sunday afternoon—_

Charlie was dressed in casual clothing, having returned to the office early to meet the President as he stepped off Marine One after returning to Washington from spending Thanksgiving at his farm in New Hampshire. He nodded briefly to Zoey and received a smirk and quick wave followed by some lip reading. He was fairly certain that she mouthed the words: _I bought your gift_. But he wasn't certain. It worried him. He had pondered whether he should get her a Christmas gift this year and if so what. They had exchanged gifts each Christmas since he started working at the White House. Some years they were more personal and more thoughtful than others; it depended on the current incarnation of their relationship. This year he wasn't certain if they were in the just friends category or the more than friends or even if they were on the cusp of re-entering the friends with _benefits_ phase.

"Welcome back, Mr. President," Charlie said as the man entered the White House following a brief stop in at the residence. "Leo left several memos for you."

"It wouldn't be a holiday weekend if Leo didn't work through it," Bartlet groaned.

"Didn't he go to the farm with you this year, sir?" Charlie asked. That was the plan that he recalled.

"Last minute change," Bartlet said. "Mallory and her latest and greatest broke up, and Leo suddenly found her invite more appetizing with Mr. Wonderful no longer attending her meal."

"I see," Charlie replied, waiting for instructions of any sort.

"Charlie, you don't have to be here," Bartlet said, looking over the top of his glasses as he flipped through the information left by Leo. "I told you to take the weekend off. When you come in and the lights are all off, it means we're not working that day."

"The government never fully sleeps, sir," Charlie said.

"Sleep deprivation would explain the bonehead maneuvers we make from time-to-time," Bartlet scowled as he read the message from the Treasury Secretary. "But that doesn't mean you need to add to the problem. Seriously, Charlie. My staff has the day off. That includes you."

"I'm not the only one who is confused then, Mr. President," Charlie said, taking the pages Bartlet had just signed to route them appropriately. "I think Leo's been here since this morning."

"Leo is the exceptions to nearly every rule," Bartlet said as he continued to read.

"And Josh is here so…," Charlie continued.

"Wait," Bartlet stopped him. "Josh is here? Josh Lyman?"

"Yes, sir," Charlie nodded. "I saw him heading over to the OEOB with Larry when I got here about 20 minutes ago."

"If he ends up in the West Wing, I want to see him," Bartlet said firmly.

"I think he'll probably be in on the meeting with Rabbi Schulman," Charlie said. "Leo was supposed to meet with him this afternoon."

"Leo can hold his own," Bartlet said. "Tell Josh I would like to see him."

"Yes, sir," Charlie nodded and stepped out of the office. Though he had not been told to seek the man out actively, he recognized the tone in the President's voice.

Charlie did not have to look for long. He found Josh entering the West Wing in casual attire as he returned from the alley linking the West Wing with the OEOB.

"Hey, Charlie," he greeted the aide. "Is the President back?"

"Yeah, he got back just a little while ago," Charlie answered. "He'd like to see you."

"Me?" Josh asked then looked at his pager which had been silent all day. "Did something happen? What's going on?"

"I don't know," Charlie answered. "Leo's just started a meeting with Rabbi Schulman in the Roosevelt Room, but that happened after the President told me to find you."

"I was going to stop in and see Schulman," Josh said as they walked passed the meeting room to see the two men sitting on opposite sides of the long, polished table. Neither looked pleased.

"He said Leo could handle it," Charlie replied. "I got the feeling he wanted to see you pronto."

"Did he actually say pronto?"

"It was more of his tone that said it," Charlie informed him. "That's how they answer the phones in Rome, you know. They say pronto. It means 'ready.'"

Josh gave the younger man a wide-eyed stare for a moment as they arrived at the Oval Office door.

"You know you've been spending way too much time with him, right?" Josh observed.

"Yeah," Charlie nodded. "He's waiting."

Josh knocked briefly on the door then entered the room. He got the same feeling, the same rush, each time he entered this room. It didn't matter if it was for an NSA meeting, a budget meeting or an unknown reason on a Sunday afternoon when all in the nation seemed calm and under control. It was from here that beat the heart and pulse of the nation. The thought that he had considered leaving this behind seemed foreign and from a lifetime ago.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. President?" Josh asked.

"Josh," Bartlet responded and got up from behind his desk. "Yes, yes, come in."

He ushered the Deputy Chief of Staff to the sitting area in front of the desk and observed him with a careful eye. He looked well and the hollow and haggard look he had sported for many weeks.

"Schulman just got here," Josh informed the President. "If you wanted an update, I have none for you. I just got here myself."

"How is Donna?" Bartlet asked. "I heard something about her seeing a doctor on Wednesday. Toby said you were called out of a meeting."

"Yeah and no," Josh nodded. "I mean, yes, she had a thing, but I finished the meeting. I got a message as I was leaving. I was meeting with Gurlach on the Interstate Commerce Committee."

"Well, what was the outcome?" Bartlet asked with concern.

"There are three proposals on the table that we're going to rehash on Monday, but I think it would be a better use of time to...," Josh began but was cut off.

"I didn't mean the meeting," Bartlet said. "Is Donna all right?"

"Oh, that," Josh shook his head as he recalled the President was one of the few who knew what was going on. Everything is just fine, sir. Better than fine. I'm not supposed tell anyone anything just yet. Donna wants to do the honors."

"Honors?" Bartlet inquired, sensing a revived and almost jubilant in the man. "You have good news?"

"Yes, sir," Josh said relenting a shy smile. "But you have to understand that Donna will kill me if she knew I told anyone we're having twins without her being here."

"Well, I'm sure she'll be...," the President started then paused. "What did you say?"

"If you're wondering about what I just said, let the record show that I didn't just say we're having twins," Josh repeated deviously. "That would be a flagrant violation of Donna's express wishes that she be a part of any disclosure of the fact that we're having twins."

"I see you're expending considerable effort being so vigilant in keeping this secret," Bartlet observed with a grin.

"I'm an overachiever, sir," Josh shrugged as the President shook his hand.

"Congratulations," he said. "Everyone is healthy?"

"Yes, sir," Josh answered. "The doctors apparently diagnosed Donna incorrectly previously. It's something about six different tests and after the first two they have a 90 percent chance that the prediction is accurate based on those results, but that's still…"

"The 10-percent chance of error," Bartlet nodded. "I've learned never to doubt the long shot. But what are you doing here? You should be home."

"I did have some work to catch up on, sir," Josh said. "Besides, there's a little too much… My mother was here and she and Donna made up for lost shopping time…"

"Ah," Bartlet nodded knowingly. "She's going to be a grandmother, Josh. Get used to it."

"I am starting to realize that I have no choice, sir," Josh said.

"Well, make it an early evening," the President said. "I just lectured about Charlie on not working on days off. If I can't make my senior staffers to follow that rule, I'm probably not going to impress it upon Charlie effectively. You're setting a bad example for him."

"I'll work on it, sir," Josh agreed. "Is that all?"

"Yes," Bartlet said. "Wonderful news, Josh."

"What news?" he said innocently as he turned toward the door. "I haven't told anyone any news."

"Naturally," Bartlet grinned. "That's the defense I'll be using for not telling Abbey tonight when I head to the Residence. She knew Donna was pregnant weeks before I did and didn't tell me after all."

"Thank you, sir," Josh said as he started out the door then paused. "Oh, and since I didn't tell you about the twins, I probably also didn't tell you it's a boy and a girl."

"A perfect set," Bartlet smiled. "Be sure to go home before your wife starts to resent me for keeping you at work unnecessarily."

"Thank you, Mr. President," Josh said as he left the room and closed the door behind him.

Josh left the Oval Office and headed to his own. However, he was sidetracked by the raised voice in the Roosevelt Room. Leo sat firmly in his seat with a taut line to his mouth. Josh caught the snatches of the elevated words of Rabbi David Schulman. The man was taking Leo to the woodshed and thrashing him soundly. He had just finished calling the White House's stance on the recently revamped hate crimes legislation little more than lip service and had begun personally blaming Leo for the meetings with Ritcher in Europe while likening him to a collaborator with Nazi Germany when Josh stepped into the room.

"Josh," David Schulman said as he paused in his tirade.

Schulman's information held that the mighty Leo McGarry was also on the outs with his right hand, his Deputy. Seeing Josh in that instant bolstered Schulman's courage.

"Rabbi Schulman," Josh said taking the man's offered hand and casting a quick glance at Leo.

Leo looked at Josh with a stony expression. He felt a knot tighten in his stomach. This meeting was going badly enough, but now it looked like someone had brought kerosene for the fire.

"I'm interrupting," Josh said mildly.

"No, not at all," Schulman said with a greedy grin. "By all means, join in."

"No," Josh said forcefully. "I mean, I am interrupting, as in stopping your diatribe; halting your vindictive ranting; arresting your asinine assertions; stalling your sanctimonious spewing. Basically, I'm here to tell you to shut up."

"Josh, I don't understand," Schulman said taken aback.

"Yeah, that's abundantly clear," Josh continued. "So why don't you pack it in for the day. Find the door and go think about what kind of...."

"Josh, that's enough," Leo said calmly.

"No, it's not," Josh replied, keeping his eyes on Schulman. "I gotta ask you this, David: How do you manage to be such an unmitigated jackass? You claim to support equality and tolerance and freedom and yet you stand here in this room and..."

"Josh, we're talking about Neo-Nazis!" Schulman raged. "They murdered Jacob and Jeremy Fleishman out of hate--two brothers who are dead simply because they were Jewish and in the wrong place at the wrong time! These animals mutilated their bodies with symbols of hate so badly their mother didn't recognize them. Surely you are outraged by what these cretins have done! Surely you, of all people, would want more than lip service paid to this issue!"

"What does that mean?" Josh asked. "Me of all people?"

"These people hate you for what you are!"

"Hey, I'm used to it," he said casually. "I am hated because I'm liberal; because I'm a Democrat; because I'm opinionated. The whole anti-Semitic thing is there, but it's kind of small in the demographics. A hell of a lot more people hate me because of my position on gun control. Now, that doesn't mean I approve of what these guys did. I don't support it; I do what I can to prevent it, and I hope that some day we can live in a world where people are judged on the merits of their character alone. It's not an original dream, but it is outlandish and it keeps me employed."

Schulman sighed and muttered something under his breath. Josh caught just the very end of his remarks and stepped closer to Schulman. In a low and calculated tone, he asked Schulman to repeat his words. The rabbi refused at first, but upon seeing the fierce glare in Josh's eyes he relented.

"I said you turned your back on the Jews," Schulman said angrily.

"That's what I thought you said," Josh said.

"You married a Shiksa so I guess that says it all," Schulman said haughtily.

"See, we were having a productive discussion until just then," Josh shook his head. "Yeah, it was a bit loud and possibly contentious, but it was still worthy of debate because at least there was an honorable issue on the table. Then you went and made a stupid mistake."

"I don't care what you think, Josh," Schulman said. "I really don't. Yeah, it's nice to have someone with your connections in my rolodex, but you're hardly a member of good standing in our community."

"I don't live in your community."

"I was speaking metaphorically of our race," Schulman said with venom.

"Your race?" Josh said. "What race would that be? Something other than human?"

"Josh," Leo said without any noticeable effect.

"I'm referring to being Jewish," Schulman said. "Your grandfather was a survivor of Birkenau. He would be disgusted by what you've become."

"My grandfather would be disgusted if he thought I believed Jews are a separate race," Josh said loudly. "Judaism is a religion, not a separate race. I learned that when I was like three--from my grandfather--so maybe you should go back to rabbinical school because I think you missed a day when they covered some basic and important things."

Leo held his face in check as he watched the two men square off. Schulman's smug look was a reflection of the false confidence he had walking into this battle. Leo knew all too well what was coming next. He knew he should stop this ruckus before it went too far, but there was something in Josh's eyes that said he would not be stopped until he had said his fill. What concerned Leo was precisely what it would take to get to that point. He wasn't sure if it was a wise decision, but he sat back and let the skirmish continue.

"But if you want to talk about race, we can," Josh said grandly. "These same lovelies you are here to berate the administration for not, what, executing on live TV or something? Yeah, these guys are not new. They've been on the radar for a while now. They did a couple things; they burned a handful of churches about seven years ago; they savagely beat and raped an ACLU attorney and what was that real headline grabber back in 2000? Oh, right. They shot at the President. See, they're not really Neo-Nazis at all. They're White Supremacists. You should know that--you're one, too."

"This is an outrage!" Schulman said. "Leo, I demand an apology!"

"Are you serious?" Josh yelled. "You want him, the guy you were just hurling unfounded and personally slanderous accusations at two minutes ago, to make me say I'm sorry because you're a bigot? That's not how it works. Welcome to the big leagues, Rabbi."

"I am not a bigot and I resent...."

"I resent, too," Josh interrupted. "I resent you walking in here and treating any member of this staff like a doormat. I resent you believing that some people are created more equal than others. See, that's what makes you a bigot. What these bastards did is awful. It is atrocious. The President spoke out against them. Congress is doing what it can, but there are rights and protections for all in this country. For all.

"Now, you don't think the President's words were strong enough, fine," Josh continued as he leaned toward Schulman and pointed at Leo. "You are entitled to that opinion. But don't you ever put President Bartlet or this man in the same category with the likes of West Virginia White Pride. Not unless you're willing to stand up and be counted with them because you're no different. You made that obvious two minutes ago."

"The only thing that's obvious is that you have turned your back on your people," Schulman said. "It's to be expected, I suppose. Politics is a dirty business that strips a man of his beliefs."

"That's not true at all," Josh said. "I believe in lots of things: Spelling and grammar always count; the infield fly rule; the Constitution; and this Administration. What I don't believe in is your claim to righteousness. Oh, I think you care about the murder of the Fleishman kids, but I think that's only because it gives you exposure and that leads to power and money. See, if you honestly cared about stopping hate crimes, you'd want them all stopped. But apparently you don't. It sounds to me like you're saying mess with a Jewish kid and there'll be hell to pay, but go ahead and do whatever you like to blacks or Catholics or gays or anyone else because I don't care about those kinds of people. And you don't, do you? Because they're not your kind of people. That is bigotry, and I'm sick and tired of hearing prejudice trotted in front of cameras under the guises of moral indignation!"

"Well, I won't be treated like this," Schulman huffed.

"But you see no problem treating others in this manner?"

"I'll see that everyone knows what I know about you and how this place is run," Schulman sneered. "Leo, this is your doing and you will not get away with this."

"That's Mr. McGarry to you," Josh said. "And before you call Larry King to book your appearance, let me make something crystal clear: I welcome you to spout off all the opinions your narrow little mind can conjure in regard to this administration. That's your right. We'll disagree with you, but we'll support your right to disagree with us. However, if you utter one word that sounds remotely like an accusation of impropriety about this man, I will come down on you so hard you'll be five inches shorter when I'm done."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I don't make threats," Josh said. "I'm offering you a frank assessment of the situation and the repercussions of your actions. You want to make this part of the new cycle, go ahead. Walk down to the press room right now. Grab any reporter and say Josh Lyman just called me a bigot. Hell, I'll go with you and repeat it. Come on. Let's do it now. I just saw Lloyd Marevich in the hall; he'll love this."

Schulman stared deep into Josh's eyes for a moment. When the deputy did not waiver and the faintest hints of an evil grin appeared in the corners of his mouth, Schulman's shoulders drooped and he pulled his eyes away. Josh waited several seconds, savoring his victory in silence.

"Face it, David," Josh said. "You can turn a nice phrase once in a while, but in the end, I'm better at this than you will ever be. So I suggest you pick up your file and find the door."

Schulman gathered up his papers and stormed out the door. Josh watched him disappear. The room fell silent for several moments.

"Haven't seen that in a while," Leo said dryly.

"Me pissed off?"

"No, I get a healthy dose of that daily," Leo remarked. "I meant the indignation speech. Usually you reserve both barrels for congressmen straying from the flock."

"Too much?"

"He deserved most of it," Leo observed. "But Josh, I think he does actually care that these guys form lynch mobs for a variety of people not to their liking."

"Oh, I know," Josh said. "That was a bonus."

"Bonus?" Leo asked cautiously, noting the sharp and cold tone Josh took with him in recent days was noticeably absent.

"Yeah, now he'll work harder to castigate these guys," Josh replied. "A vocal ally is better than a silent one--even if he hates you personally."

"Interesting technique," Leo observed not sure it was a tactic he wanted used again.

"Yeah, made up five minutes ago when he pushed one of my buttons," Josh said with a shrug.

"Pushed? That was pushed? Give me a heads up so I can buy tickets to watch when someone stomps on one of those buttons."

"It's been a long year," Josh sighed. "The difference between pushing and stomping is miniscule at the moment."

"Oh," Leo said and lowered his voice. "Anything I can do?"

"No," Josh said.

Josh paused and looked at Leo. He was torn. He knew he would never fully forget what Leo had done, but he knew in the grand scheme it hardly mattered any longer. Leo was wrong with what he did and Josh felt Leo knew that now.

"I heard Donna wasn't doing so well," Leo said hesitantly.

"Yeah," Josh said. "But that's over now."

"Over?" he asked. "Is she okay?"

"Uh, yeah," he said relaxing his jaw and letting the scowl slip from his face.

"I'm not sure how I'm supposed to ask this," Leo replied. "Is she okay because it's all fixed or did something else happen?"

"The doctors were wrong," Josh said. "For once, that's a good thing."

Leo hesitated. This was the longest non-politically affiliated conversation he'd had with Josh in two months.

"So, the baby's okay?" Leo ventured cautiously. "It was nothing?"

"Yeah, there was something just not what the experts thought," Josh said. "Donna's not sick, but we just found out she's having twins so the world isn't quite normal for us yet."

"Twins?" Leo repeated. "You mean two?"

"Yeah, I did the math and that's what I came up with," Josh said, unable to hid his grin. "It's one of each: a boy and a girl. Think the world is ready for that?"

"The world still isn't ready for you much less your children," Leo said. "That's great news. I guess you've had a lot on your mind with this whole thing."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I'm not still pissed at you," Josh said though he no longer sounded it.

"Okay," Leo nodded accepting it but not concerned as it was apparent the worst of the storm had passed. "You know, you don't have to be here right now."

"I've done enough damage for the day?"

"Well, you just insulted and berated our most vocal critic who is also one of our staunchest allies when he was standing about 30 feet from the Oval Office, so, yeah, we can call that a day."

"He'll call us by Wednesday and want to talk civilly," Josh prophesied.

"Probably earlier," Leo replied. "Go home. Your mom's visiting, right? Go spend time with your family."

"I... no," Josh said casually. "My mom left this morning—she's headed back to Florida to finish fueling the economy. She's…. uh…. moving here in the spring."

"She hired herself as the nanny?" Leo guessed then shrugged as Josh nodded. "You should have seen that coming. Vegas wouldn't have even allowed a line on that one. I'm impressed you got her to leave at all. She installing herself in your house or is she buying the homes on either side of yours like a compound?"

"She and Donna colluded on this one," Josh shook his head. "She'll be residing in the mother-in-law apartment in the back. They're calling it a carriage house. It's really not."

"Does it matter?" Leo remarked. "You gonna be able to handle that? Her being in the back yard?"

"Won't bother me," Josh said as they started to leave the room. "You're the one who she's going to annoy. Let me just apologize before the campaign to get me fired begins, that this is Donna's fault. I wanted to put her in a home."

"That's just because she intimidates you because she's smarter than you," Leo said.

"My mother or Donna?"

"Both probably," Leo offered. Josh nodded. "I'm heading to the Mess for coffee."

"Whatever," Josh said with a shrug s he fell in step beside him.

"You don't have to," Leo said as he opened the door. "You can still give me a nasty look every once in a while if that helps."

"I know," Josh said.

"So I hear you're going to run for Mayor of New York," Leo offered as they descended the stairs.

"Really?" Josh said. "I hadn't heard that one. I heard that Donna is pregnant with Will Bailey's baby after some brief but torrid affair when I was dead last fall."

"Well, you were dead," Leo shrugged. "Who could have predicted you, of all people, would be resurrected?"

"Of all the things that happen around here, you'd think they'd be more creative with the rumors," Josh replied.

"Give them a break," Leo said. "They're tired and they're busy."

"They're idiots," Josh countered. "What worries me more than the asinine theories is that these are _our_ people. We need better people, Leo, or at least smarter ones who aren't quite so freaky."

"You get what you pay for," Leo sighed.

_Lyman House_

_11 p.m.__—_

Donna maneuvered out of bed, a task that was no longer easy but that since Wednesday seemed a joy rather than a task. She looked at the empty space beside where she had recently been laying then looked at the clock. Josh had yet to return from his purported "brief" visit to the office that afternoon. She decided she would wake herself completely before setting off his pager.

She turned on the light in the master bathroom and she took stock of her appearance in the mirror. Viewing things straight on, the change was not as obvious; she knew it was slightly vain, but she was pleased her face was not showing any of the weight gain. The profile view was a different story. She looked at the rounded paunch along her midriff. She sighed contented as she rubbed her swollen abdomen when she detected the slightest movement from within that signaled she was not the only one awake. Feeling any movement had previously been heartbreaking. Now she rejoiced in the sensation and felt guilty for despising it previously.

She splashed water on her face then returned to the bedroom and lifted the phone from its cradle. After punching the series of numbers--numbers that were as familiar to her as her social security number—she waited then disconnected. She decided she was thirsty and opted to go downstairs to wait for the callback. However, when she arrived at the foot of the stairs, a barely audible chirp sounded from the direction of the living room where a dim light shown.

Puzzled, she entered the room and located the source of the noise sitting on the coffee table beside a stack of papers, a sweatshirt and a backpack. She cleared the screen of Josh's pager and looked down at him. He was stretched out on the couch, a file clutched in his hands where it had been since he had fallen asleep reading it. She was considering draping a blanket over him when his eyes opened.

"Did I get paged?"

"No," she said then showed him the cleared screen. "I mean yes, but it was nothing. I paged you."

"Why?" he asked skeptically. "I'm right here."

"I didn't know that at the time," she informed him. "When did you get in? You said you'd be home early."

"It was early," he said, rubbing his eyes then looking at his watch. "Before midnight is early as far as my day goes."

"Today was your day off," Donna reminded him. "You had the whole weekend off."

"Which is why I was home early," he yawned. "I would have stayed longer, but I was falling asleep sitting up."

"Why didn't you come to bed?"

"I wasn't done working," he said, gesturing to the pages in front of him as he gathered them into his bag.

"Move your feet," she said, waving his legs off the couch.

He slid his feet to the floor and stretched through his shoulders as he yawned. Donna lowered herself to the couch and took a seat beside him. He draped his arm over her shoulders then kissed her forehead.

"Why are you up?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," she said. "Your mother called."

"Did she want me to call her?"

"I didn't say she called for you," Donna informed him. "I was just letting you know she called. She said to say hello and that she got home all right. She has more ideas for the nursery. We talked for about 45 minutes. She really should have been a decorator."

"I've been replaced," he sighed. "Now you're officially her favorite."

"Can you blame her? I'm a better deal," Donna said her head on his shoulder. "A three for one package--very efficient. You're just... Well, you're you, and you're fairly high maintenance."

"Thank you," he said.

"Why were you so late?"

"I have a girlfriend who doesn't think I'm high maintenance," he said.

"So Toby kept you?" Donna asked. "I thought he was in New York visiting his sisters this weekend."

"He was," Josh said. "I was with Leo."

"Oh no," she sighed. "Josh, what now?"

"Representative Carswell had a heart attack," Josh said.

"Is he all right?"

"Never was before," Josh said.

"Josh," she scolded.

"He's in intensive care, but he'll make it," Josh said. "Could change some things in the House, though. Leo and I got to talking."

"You mean shouting."

"No, if I meant shouting I would have said shouting."

"So by talking you meant..."

"I meant talking," he said.

"That's good--isn't it?"

"I guess," Josh said. "I'm still not happy with what he did, but being mad at him didn't make it better. I mean, it's Leo. Donna, do you know how much energy it takes to hate him--I mean if you're not a Republican or ultra liberal Democrat? Besides, if you think about it...."

"I don't," she said. "And you don't need to give me your justifications. You're talking to him rather than at him; you called him Leo and apparently you two were doing some plotting to rid the world of the Republican scourge. Color me happy."

"But I had a whole thing ready," he said.

"I'm going to have stretch marks," she said.

"What's that got to do with Leo?" Josh asked with a mildly disgusted and slightly scared look on his face.

"Nothing, but I think there will be certain non sequitors that curb your diatribes and I am prepared to use them at my leisure," she said.

"I'm definitely getting myself a girlfriend who listens to me," he said.

"Good luck," she replied. "So what was the result of your discussion about Carswell? You haven't decided to try voodoo dolls for his counterparts, have you? You know they don't work, right? The entire Republican Party is not going to have a collective heart attack and make your life easier."

"You never know," Josh said elusively.

"What are you plotting?" she asked flatly.

"Plotting?" he said. "That sounds so underhanded. You know me better than that."

"Fine, what non-devious plot-like scheme are you and Leo hatching in the wee hours of the morning?"

"I think plotting sounded better," he said, rubbing her back. "You look tired. Are you sure you're okay?"

"When there was something to worry about you didn't say a word," she said, snuggling close to his chest and closing her eyes. "Now that I'm fine you've turned into a worrywart."

"I wasn't allowed to worry before," he reminded her.

"I'm making you index cards," she said.

"For what?"

"We're having babies, Josh," she informed him. "There's a lot to know and something tells me I'll have to provide you with the research so that you can understand."

"I think I know the basics," he said.

"Yeah, I figured you knew where babies come from, but there's more to it than that," she said. "I started working on it when you left today. They're on your desk. I'll quiz you at the end of the week."

_The White House_

_Monday morning—_

Charlie sat at his desk and scowled. He had several catalogues in front of him that his sister provided him for his quest. He wasn't sure why this was such a problem. Gift buying was not an art. You bought something for someone and they were supposed to be thankful at both the actual gift and the thought behind it. And that's where he was struggling.

"You look like you got caught cheating on a test," Debbie Fidderer said as she breezed into the office and took a seat at her desk.

"I have no idea what you mean," Charlie said as he tossed the glossy sales flyers into his desk and looked at a copy of the President's schedule for the day.

"I always go with the unexpected," Debbie shrugged, spraying her plant. "What's going on with you?"

"Zoey's already bought my Christmas gift," Charlie sighed. "And I have no clue what it is."

"Of course you wouldn't know what it is," Debbie chuckled. "It's a gift."

"I didn't mean that," Charlie huffed. "What I meant was I don't know what _kind_ of gift. We've exchanged Christmas gifts each year since I started here at the White House. Some years the gifts were more personal than others—depending on…. you know."

"On whether you're just friends or _friends_ in italics," Debbie surmised, accentuating the word to make her point.

"We're friends," Charlie said, voicing the point he made to his sister just before she left to return to college. "There's no reason to bring different fonts into the situation. The word friend is a simple concept, and I'm not sure there's any reason to complicate it."

"Well, that's where you're wrong," Debbie informed him as she returned to her seat. "Friend has many level, and it's anything but a simple concept. If being friends was simple, there would be no enemies in this world. No, friendship is hard and messy and difficult."

"What's difficult?" Sam asked as he entered the room to drop a folder on Charlie's desk that he needed the President to peruse when he had a free moment.

"Friendship," Debbie answered.

"Yeah," Sam sighed as his shoulders drooped. "It's a balancing act and if it topples over…"

He shook his head. Both the aide and the executive secretary said nothing. They knew what was troubling the speechwriter and were powerless to help him.

"But the friendship between a man and a woman," Charlie said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "That's… You can be just friends. Everything doesn't have to mean something."

"So why are you worried about getting her a gift," Debbie asked.

"Who?" Sam wondered.

"Charlie is dissecting the current state of affairs between he and Zoey based on a gift he hasn't received yet," Debbie offered.

"She told you she got you a gift?" Sam remarked. "Then she wanted you to know so that you'd have the time to find something thoughtful for her."

"That's why?" Charlie asked.

"Well, that or she got you something insignificant and she just wanted you to stew about it so that she could tease you about it later since you've still got a thing for her while she remains uncommitted to whatever it is she feels towards you," Sam nodded. "With women, it's a toss up."

"We're complicated, like Chinese algebra," Debbie agreed.

_Operations Bullpen—_

Donna sat at her desk going over the request she was preparing for the Personnel Office. It was with a mixture of pleasure and sadness that she filled it out. Since receiving the news that she would be taking maternity leave, many things had raced through her mind. One of them was her job. She was finding it difficult to keep up with the pace Josh both expected and needed to do his work. Her doctors had changed their tunes as well, now that she had two looking at all her test results to be certain she was receiving the correct information the first time. They both were in agreement that she would need to cut back her activity and her hours. The high-paced, high-stress of the White House was prohibited. She was not under doctor's orders to be on strict bed-rest, but she was told it would not be long before they recommended restricted duty. Her initial instinct was to argue that she could handle her job, but that was quickly halted. She might not have the condition that plagued her sister's attempts to have her own child, but Donna's was in a high risk category and she did not intend to do anything to harm her children just to assuage her ego.

In that vein, she was preparing a request for temporary but extended assistance for Josh. She had told him she would be doing this, but she did not believe he was listening. At the time, he had been too busy explaining why he had ignored her wishes to keep their good news quiet until she was present to be a part of it. She was not angry with him that he had been unable to keep the secret, but as he explained his rationale her mind had quickly jumped to the vast reserves of energy she normally needed to contain him within his schedule and good sense on any given day. She knew she needed to step aside as Josh's gatekeeper so that the business of the nation that required his attention could continue unhindered.

Writing the request was difficult. There were very specific duties the job held—the same could be said for any upper level assistant in the White House. The hitch to this one was the master to whom the individual would answer. Donna knew about the line of temporary help he had gone through the previous year when she was in Wisconsin dealing with her father's illness. She was afraid no one who currently worked in the building would be willing to accept the task—at least, no one she trusted. There was the matter of the person needing to be loyal to a fault. Working closely with Josh made one privy to much information that should not be shared in casual conversation. There were those, Donna knew, who would use a post like hers to move upwards themselves in unethical ways, selling out anyone in his or her path. While Donna wasn't worried about a mole sinking the White House by pulling a secret plug in the Operations theater, she did worry that Josh would not trust a stranger; this would slow things considerably or tax his time and abilities.

"Donna," Marcy Sanford said dropping an envelope in her inbox. "See that Josh gets this. Counsel's office signed off on the language."

"What?" Donna asked, snapping out of her trance.

"The language Josh had the White House counsel's office vet for him," Marcy explained. "They finished it last week, but no one over there apparently has legs and I suppose they figured the envelope would simply sprout legs on it's own and make it to the mail cart. I decided to sidestep evolution and bring it myself."

"Thanks," Donna nodded. "I'm in the zone. Sorry."

"I can see that," the woman responded. "I heard you had good news. A baby. With Josh. Not so sure about the second part, but congrats on the first."

"Thank you," Donna smiled. "Actually, it's two. We just found out."

"One for you and one for him," Marcy nodded. "Good thinking. That'll keep him from corrupting the whole family."

Donna regarded the woman and her sharp comments for a moment. She knew Sanford marginally. She had worked in the White House counsel's office for several years as a paralegal but was not happy there. She had worked for several congressmen as a minor aide in the past, Donna knew, and had met Josh while in one of those roles.

"Marcy, do you consider yourself more of a researcher or more of a secretary?" Donna asked.

"Neither," she said. "I'm a slave. They scream in my general direction, I fetch, I read, I write, I edit, I get scolded for doing that when they don't like the result and get a firm 'at a girl' when it's right and they take the credit for it. I get paid a pittance for my time and effort, so I guess slave is too harsh. I'm an indentured servant. One day I will be recognized for all I do and someone will hire me for my considerable talents. Of course, this all hinges upon my not winning the lottery this week. If I do, all bets are off."

Donna smirked and looked at the notes she had made outlining what her job entailed and what portions she needed to cut back upon to obey her doctor's edict. Marcy was in her early 30s and single with a pronounced sour disposition toward dating as every man she ever mentioned seemed to have wronged her in a predictable and painful way. She was sharp, quick on her toes and not easily intimidated in Donna's estimation. She was a little more abrasive that Donna liked, but it came off as a bitter charm on the woman.

"You've worked with Josh before, right?" Donna asked.

"With no," Marcy corrected her. "Worked for? Yes. He hired me when he was with Congressman Brennan. I was actually more like an intern, but intern, cabinet secretary—it's all about the same level with Josh. He had me doing stuff that he didn't trust half of the paid staff to do."

"Could you handle that again?"

"Working for Attila the Politician for no money, no thanks," Marcy replied. "I do have some self-respect."

"No, I mean for a salary," Donna said quickly. "Would you leave the counsel's office? It would be a temporary thing, but it would be advancement. You couldn't go back to the other job when this one was done, probably, but I'm sure the experience would help open some options for you."

"You're serious," Marcy discerned with a surprised look. "You mean for a few weeks when you're on leave acting like the human soda fountain and rocking his gremlins to sleep?"

"Uh, no," Donna said, opting not to take offense at the characterization of her children as monsters and herself as a dispensary. "I can't do everything that Josh needs me to do right now, and I will be taking maternity leave eventually. He needs someone who can keep up with him—someone he can trust."

"And you think that's me?"

"I'm asking if you think that's you," Donna said.

"I can't be you for him," Marcy answered plainly as she looked toward his open office door. "I have my own style, and I come with my own… quirks. I remember how he discarded all those others who tried to fill in for you last year. I won't be treated like a pen that doesn't write the way he likes. The second something doesn't go precisely his way, he throws it away. He's always been like that."

"He can be difficult," Donna admitted. "Okay, he's a giant pain in the ass, but this job is more than just typing and answering a phone. He relies on whoever sits in this chair to be more than a secretary. He needs someone who can play devil's advocate, someone who can spot the details that got missed, someone who has the patience he doesn't. It's madness, but there's a reason for all of it. It's not always clear what that reason is, even in the end, but it's there. He's not perfect and he's difficult to handle, but this is an opportunity you shouldn't pass up just because he can be…"

"I'll take it," Marcy said, cutting her off.

"Are you sure?" Donna asked. "This is a long haul thing. You can't say yes then bail in a week because he was…"

"Donna, I know," Marcy said. "He's a political pitbull—I know. You just let him know he's hired himself a rattlesnake for an assistant. As long as we show each other some respect, we'll be fine."

She nodded as she left, the hints of a grin that looked menacing yet hopeful on her lips. Donna knew she would need to clear this decision with Josh but doubted he would argue much. She knew he had faith in Marcy and approved of her work. She also intimidated him slightly with her stern disposition and would therefore make a good gatekeeper for his office. Donna trusted her to keep the watch over the post while she was tending to family matters.

Donna gathered her notes into a pile and filed the gratefully in the trash as Sam entered the bullpen holding a muffin with an paper umbrella stuck in the top of it. He grinned and offered it to Donna.

"It's all I could do on short notice," he said. "I just heard the good news. Congratulations."

"Oh," she smiled demurely, growing used to the sentiments as she had received them all morning. "Thank you. It was an unexpected surprise."

"So it seems," he replied. "I had no idea what you were going through. If I had… I'm just glad everything's okay—everyone's okay. And can I say you look positively radiant."

"You could but you'd be slipping into clichés," she reminded him, pealing the wrapper off the muffin. "Doesn't that make Toby cranky?"

"I've learned that oxygen makes Toby cranky, but when he's cranky he writes like a demon," Sam replied. "A cranky Toby is a good Toby. He actually told me the news. He may have even smiled a little. We were all worried over the weekend."

Donna nodded and began to pick at her snack. She wasn't usually a fan of blueberry muffins, but anything would taste good at that moment she decided. Her bouts with nausea were fleeting but unpredictable. Whenever she wasn't feeling green, eating was a good idea because she never knew when the next round of queasiness would hit.

"So Josh and Leo are back and track," Sam said hopefully as he looked toward Josh's open door. "I knew it would just take some time. He must be happy about all this."

"Yeah," Donna replied and hesitated as she tried to find the best way to warn Sam that not all was forgiven—while at the same time swallowing what was in her mouth. However, before she had the chance, he stood up and walked into Josh's office.

"So, great news, huh?" Sam said with a wide grin as he entered Josh's office.

He had learned of the thaw in the cold war with Leo and was relieved the tension was no longer to be present at the meetings. He could see Leo was appreciative of the change in the weather as well. He was back to being his normal gruff self. Not that it was a great difference between how he had been in recent days, but Sam felt you could see the difference, around the eyes perhaps.

"What do you want?" Josh asked without looking up.

"I'm just here to say hey, its great news, daddy," Sam remarked. "We were worried about the two of you, or I guess I should say the four of you now. Only, back then, we only thought it was the three of you."

"Again," Josh seethed, "can I help you?"

"No," Sam said, sensing he had over calculated Josh's redemption spree. "I just wanted to say, you know, congrats on the thing."

"The thing is none of your concern," Josh said coldly as he stood to leave his office in search of a file that he didn't specifically need but that that would get him out of the room before his temper boiled over.

"Wait," Sam said, stopping him in the doorway. "Josh, this has to end. Okay, you've had you time to be mad. Donna's forgiven me. You've forgiven Leo. Let's make it a clean sweep."

"I have a better idea," Josh offered. "You get out of my way."

"We have to get past this," Sam said. "Josh, you know it as well as I do. This can't go on. What happened is in the past and you're making more of it than necessary."

"Yeah?" Josh remarked.

"Yes," Sam said eagerly. "Josh, what I did was stupid and wrong, but I was thinking about the big picture—maybe too big. I'm thinking of the words of George Bernard Shaw: No man who is occupied in doing a very difficult thing, and doing it very well, ever loses his self respect."

"Right now, I'm more partial to the words of Josh Lyman," he retorted as he shoved Sam out of his way so that he could exit the room. "I physical hate you right now; get out of my face."

_Thursday, __3:24 p.m.__—_

CJ sat at her desk listening and feeling like a hostage. In front of her lay notes for the ground rules she had hammered out with NBC for an hour-long sit down with the President. Also on her desk was the empty bowl vacated by her deceased fish Gail. She meant to either install a new resident or put the bowl away, but she never seemed to do either. Josh had been in her office in recent days and remarked that it was time to stop the grieving. She had scowled at him and denied she was grieving a fish, of all things, especially after nearly three months since it was flushed. However, he had not believed her assertions. As such, he had taken matters into his own capable, juvenile hands.

CJ pulled her attention away from the bowl and looked up again at her visitor who was 10 minutes into his purported simple question.

"It was the way she told me," Charlie continued. "She sort of mouthed it to me, like speaking with no sound coming out, once she got off of Marine One after Thanksgiving. How am I supposed to take that?"

"Take it as someone said she giving you a Christmas gift, Charlie," CJ answered when he finally paused.

"See, I don't think you understand what I mean," Charlie stated. "She got me a gift."

"I got that part, Charlie."

"But what does it mean?" he asked, a refrain he had uttered more times than he could count in recent days. It was beginning to bother him how much this question bothered him. "And I still haven't gotten her a gift."

"You have time," she pointed out.

"I know that," he said. "But I don't know what _kind_ of gift."

"You're worried that if you give her something nicer than she gives you, you look like a yutz who isn't over her," CJ ventured.

"No," Charlie said. "I'm just asking what I should get her."

"Ear plugs," CJ suggested. "Charlie, you're sweating this thing for no reason. She got you a gift. Good. It means you got a gift. If you're worried about what it means, why don't you ask her?"

"If I do that, then she'll think I'm worried about it," Charlie answered.

"You are worried about it," CJ chuckled.

"No, I'm just curious," Charlie argued. "Worried and curious are two different things. I'm just asking, if you were going to get a gift for a woman at Christmas time, what would it be?"

"Did Josh or Toby put you up to this?" CJ asked with a scowl as she leaned to the side and looked down the hall toward the Operations area. The Ohio story about the lesbian teacher's aide had died eventually in the press, but not in the White House.

"No," Charlie assured her. "Just tell me, if some man you were friends with was getting you a gift at Christmas, what would that gift be if it said to you 'we're friends and maybe something more or maybe not but this is just a gift'?"

"A card that said precisely that," CJ said. "Stick a candy cane on the envelope—that'll dress it up and show her that while you're an idiot who's afraid to communicate that you at least hope she rots her teeth with the flavor of the season."

_Office of the Deputy Chief of Staff_

_December 18, __7 p.m.__—_

Josh sat in his office, wearing his tuxedo with white tie as directed by the President for the Congressional Christmas party. Josh never liked these affairs. It felt uncivilized to be dressed like a penguin and trying to muscle hesitant congressmen into position to support upcoming legislation in January. There was only one issue on the table this evening, the changes to the hate crime bill. The White House had most of the support it needed, but Josh still wanted a greater bipartisan showing as he had promised several conservative democrats that more republicans would hop on board once it was a lock. There were a few who had pledged their support, but Josh wanted several others. He knew they wanted to stand with the legislation as well, but they were going to parlay their support into some gestures in kind from the White House. It was how the game was played and Josh needed only maneuver one player that night.

He had his clothes at the office so that there was no need to return home before the party began. He had a message from Donna. She had left early to rest as she was feeling worn out and queasy. He did not expect to see her that evening though she was allegedly going to make an appearance. He wished she wouldn't. She was looking weary with dark circles under her eyes and even though Marcy was taking up a majority of Donna's every day work, just coming into the office seemed to exhaust her. Even the walk from her car to her desk was tiring, she claimed. To help with that issue, a cubical in the OEOB had been found. Donna's work station could now be found there as she was running a longer term research project into several issues that would be tackled in the spring. Josh knew the work needed to be done and in a pinch he could have someone toss a paper together for him that would hit the highlights, but there were multiple facets that he needed looked at carefully from various sides. It would be long and boring work that required concentration and little interruption. She might not like it all the time, but it fit the prescription for Donna's current condition.

It was odd at first, not seeing her at her desk each day. In fact, there were days when he did not see her at the office at all. When possible, she dropped in to give him an update in person on what she was finding and occasionally scheduled 20 minutes for lunch with him to go over what he was looking for as the project progressed, but for the most part, he heard from her during the day only through email or the occasional phone call. Her schedule was a strict 9 to 5 deal. His was not though the adjustment pains he predicted as Marcy slid into Donna's slot had been much less traumatic. She was tart with her comments and not always the most cheery person, but she was quick, efficient, sharp and reliable. She was also a better time manager than Donna had ever been, he noted. His day seemed to have fewer interruptions as Marcy did not always need or want the sidebar discussions he had come to expect as a regular part of Donna's employ. And because of his new assistant's competency and resourcefulness, he found that he was able to end his day much earlier that he was used to. He was home no later than 7 p.m. most days—an occurrence that soothed any of Donna's woe's about being replaced so readily.

"That a real tie or a clip on," Marcy, dressed in a simple black cocktail dress, said as she entered his office with a folder.

"It's real," he said, tugging at it slightly. "Carol tied it for me."

"Good now don't screw it up because I don't know how to fix it," she said. "Congressman Skinner will have time for you this evening—as if he had something better to do."

"You didn't say that to his people did you?"

"Yeah, right after I said I didn't like his cologne," Marcy answered rolling her eyes. "Just for the record, I don't like these dress up things. They're pretentious affairs where beautiful people walk around and talk about how beautiful and smart and wonderful and powerful they are."

"At least we're telling the truth," Josh countered, having grown used to her acidic comments. "You don't look like a jail matron, but the way. You clean up nice. Do you have a bullwhip under that dress or will you be roughing it tonight?"

"The damage I can do with these would blow your mind," she said, waggling her shiny, red fingernails at him. "Donna called. She spent 15 minutes putting nylons on so she's coming."

"I'm sorry?"

"You can't expect her to go to all that effort then just go to bed," Marcy informed him, having taken up Donna's case in all arguments lately that involved her physical limitations and hindrances. "You should buy her flowers by the way."

"Why?"

"Do you have any idea what it's like to put nylons on regularly?" she asked.

"I hope it doesn't surprise you when I say no."

"They're a form of torture only a man would dream up," she continued unimpeded. "Your wife, who is graciously going to bear you not one but two children in April, accomplished something tantamount to running the gauntlet. She's taking a cab and will meet you here, though I don't know precisely when. I expect she's not rushing because she knows you have Skinner at 8."

"Skinner's at 8?" Josh asked. He hadn't been told the specific time. "How does Donna know?"

"I told her," Marcy replied as Charlie appeared in the door way looking pensive, an expression he sported more often than not lately.

"You didn't tell me," Josh said sternly. "Do you need anything, Charlie?"

Charlie sighed and dug his hands deeply into his pockets. He had to be in the residence to accompany the President shortly. The First family was said to be finishing dinner and dressing for the party. As the guests were arriving at the White House, Charlie had dressed in his rented clothes and walking around the building looking for answers and inspiration.

"Zoey got me a gift," he said.

"You're still on this?" Josh asked. "Charlie, it's been nearly a month. Just buy her a book or some earrings."

"Don't listen to him," Marcy said, straightening her glasses with the dark frames smartly on her nose. "He's man. He doesn't know what he's talking about."

"I know how to buy gifts," Josh said though no one seemed to care.

"This gift thing isn't something to be taken lightly," Charlie sighed. "It's complicated. I'm thinking that I should just get her a gift certificate some place and have her pick what she thinks is appropriate, but it seems so impersonal."

"That's because it is," Marcy informed him. "It's a cop out and insensitive as well."

"By all means, accept Marcy's sage advice about what you should get for a person she's never even met," Josh shook his head.

"That's one avenue," Marcy said, not bothering to offer the boss her dagger glare as he seemed to be one of the few impervious to it. Instead, she kept her gaze on Charlie. "Or you could just apologize for her gift not getting here in time."

"What gift?" Josh asked. "He just said…."

"The one he hasn't bought yet," Marcy answered, keeping her back to him as she addressed the aide directly. "Charlie, just wait until she gives you your gift. Then, when you see what it is, you can get her something comparable. Have a card that apologizes to give to her. Have it say sorry, but I thought your gift was going to be shipped in time, but the Post Office screwed up. That way, you get her the right thing and still managed to sound thoughtful even though you're empty-handed."

"That sounds like cheating," Charlie offered.

"Yeah, but it's brilliant," Josh nodded as he started out the door to go to the East Room.

"It's dishonest," Charlie pointed out as he and Marcy followed.

"No, it's not," Marcy argued. "It's true. The Post Office hasn't shipped it yet. You never say you ordered anything and don't give any specifics. Besides, she probably gets a lot of gifts at Christmas. But nearly no one gets gifts on say January 10. If it she got you something special, then you have that moment all to yourself to give her something that doesn't get lost in the commotion of the season."

"Would you do that to Donna?" Charlie asked.

"No, but that's because it wouldn't work with her," Josh said, turning to answer. "I live with her and she opens my mail. She knows everything I get for her—she reads my credit card receipts and bank statements."

"I don't know," Charlie hedged.

"Or," Marcy said suggestively, "you could just get her whatever you want to get her and let her worry about whether her gift is good enough or says enough. If you're this worried about it, maybe you should be more thoughtful than a deceptive ploy."

"Doesn't really matter now does it?" Josh said. "Christmas is in a week. Marcy's 'it's in the mail' story is probably going to be the truth if you do order something on-line, which you'll probably have to do because you don't get much time away from this place or your classes to go shopping, do you?"

Charlie shook his head, still unsure what he should do nor why he was having such a difficult time making this decision.

"I think whoever invented italics should be punished," he said as they turned into the East Wing and prepared to enter.

_East Room—_

The room was festooned with garlands and bunting and trees. The white tie dress requirement made every one look stuffy in Josh's opinion though certain people came by it more naturally he thought as he nodded to several Congressmen who he was pleased to not be speaking with that evening. He made the required rounds and applauded when the President and First Lady were announced as they entered. Marcy caught up with him to tell him that Donna had arrived and was in the room some place, having been kidnapped by Danny Concannon who had finagled an invitation through means unknown.

"Danny's working on a pool," Marcy informed Josh. "It's about your children. The pot is upwards of $500 right now. I was thinking, if we work together, we could split it 60/40."

"Sixty, 40?" Josh repeated.

"You get to keep the kids," she reminded him.

"I am strictly forbidden to participate in the betting pool regarding the birth of my children," Josh said, still feeling awkward using those words in a sentence.

"You're in cahoots with CJ, aren't you," Marcy accused him.

"Go bother someone who isn't going to fire you," Josh commanded as he spotted Matt Skinner gesturing to him.

Josh joined the Congressman and began his discussion. They were making good progress until he happened to gaze across the room. Donna was standing beside Danny, apparently laughing at something he had said. He pulled his eyes away for several minutes, but found that he kept turned back toward the spot where she stood to observe her. She was wearing a dark green dress that had a square neckline of dark velvet and complimentary sleeves. The empire waistline accentuated the newest curves to her form rather than hiding them as the rest of the gown, made of a dark and heavy silk-type material hung to the floor. She had complained earlier in the week that she looked like a Christmas tree in the outfit and needed only as star for the top of her head to make the costume complete.

"If you're serious about having the…," Skinner was saying but noted Josh's attention was elsewhere. "Josh? Josh?"

"What?" he replied, focusing on the Congressman again. "I'm sorry, Matt. I was just… You're right. I know we need to…."

"You need to see your wife," Skinner cut in. "She's looks great. I can't remember if I'd said congratulations yet, but if I haven't…"

"Oh, thanks," Josh said, accepting the handshake and scolding himself for letting his mind wander. "No, we need to talk about this and I…"

"I support the bill, Josh," Skinner said. "You promise me we'll get together and revisit the FCC restrictions you all tried to raid last year and I'm on board."

"We have a revamped proposal," Josh promised. "It's going to the floor in the next session."

"I know, but I want a real discussion," Skinner vowed. "Now's not the time for it."

"No, I'm here," Josh said.

"Yeah, but your mind and your eyes are over there," Skinner chuckled. "Go. I insist. A beautiful woman in her condition shouldn't be left to the company of Danny Concannon."

"She can take care of herself," Josh offered.

"I was thinking more of Danny's welfare," Skinner said and patted him on the back. "Give Donna my best."

Josh thanked him again and walked across the room, dodging other Representatives and guests as best he could. Donna saw him approach and grimace slightly. She had caught his stare from across the room and wasn't sure what it meant. His talk with Skinner seemed too short. He and Josh often wrestled through discussion in a more thorough fashion. Donna knew Josh had told her there was no reason for her to come to the party as she had left work early due to exhaustion. Still, she wanted to attend at least one holiday gathering that year and had been fortunate enough to have a formal maternity dress given to her by the wife of the director of the FDA, a close friend of Josh's, who was glad to be rid of the garment. She had had in her closet for four years and during those four years had been pregnant at the holidays three times. She claimed the dress was fertility talisman and she no longer wanted it as her three children were more than enough chaos for one household.

"Sorry," Donna said stifling a yawn as he approached.

"For what?"

"I don't know," she said. "You just looked annoyed or something. You looked over here a dozen times when you were talking to Congressman Skinner. I know you said not to come, but I just felt like being social tonight. So whatever I did, I had a good reason."

"You didn't do anything," he said, smiling easily at her. "Come on. Time to go."

"Go?" she asked. "It's barely 10 o'clock."

"You're asleep on your feet," he said, leading her out of the room.

"But Andre Bocelli is supposed to sing again," she protested slightly though she was pleased to be calling it an early evening as her feet were beginning to pinch in her shoes.

"You have him on CD."

"Don't you have work to do?" she asked.

"Done," he said as they crossed into the West Wing where he unlocked his office and grabbed his top coat. "Marcy and I had a long but productive day. Nothing more to do tonight. Let's go home."

"But it's the Congressional Christmas party," Donna said as he held her coat for her. "Everyone is here. You can stay if you want. Josh, I am tired, but I can get a cab home. Stay."

"Stay?" he repeated, looping his scarf around her neck as he noticed she hadn't worn her own. "Why would I do that when I get to go home with the hot chick?"

"The…?" she began then smiled wanly as she adjusted the scarf and dug her gloves out of her pocket then looped her hand arm through his to head to the lobby. "You're becoming a better liar."

_East Room, __11:02 p.m.__—_

The gathering was dwindling as the President and First Lady said their goodbyes and the crowd thinned out. Charlie hung back against the wall near the terrace, deep in thought. Toby approached, on his way to savor his cigar after the productive evening. He spotted the aide and his pensive expression and spoke to him.

"Still undecided about the present?" Toby asked without preamble.

"Are you a witch or something?" Charlie asked, startled that his thoughts were so obvious.

"I've been called a lot of things in my life, but I think that one's a first," Toby remarked.

"Do you have any advice?" Charlie asked. "I've asked everyone else I know and they've been helpful, but none of the ideas they gave me were any good."

"How was that helpful?"

"Whatever they suggested wasn't any good, so it narrowed the possibilities down for me," Charlie nodded.

"I see," Toby replied. "Well, I could dust off my crystal ball, but I'm pretty sure I'll end up suggesting flowers or cigars."

"Flowers or cigars?"

"Those are the only gifts I give," Toby answered.

"That explains a lot," Charlie said. "I'll be taking both of those of the list. Thanks."

"Cigars are under-valued in the puritanical world in which we reside," Toby announced. "And flowers…. They're dead plants, granted, but women find them pretty and that's about all I know about them."

"Flowers or women?" Charlie asked.

"Both."

"Flowers don't last," Charlie said.

"Neither do relationships," Toby replied. "You and Zoey are just friends."

"There may be different fonts or italics involved," Charlie nodded. "I can't be sure."

"You could always ask the President's advice," Toby smirked.

"I didn't, but he offered it anyway," Charlie said. "A DVD of Beowulf in the original Middle English may be a message I'm not prepared to give."

"Well who is," Toby shrugged.

"Again, that's not exactly helpful," Charlie said.

"Okay, let me tap into my witchcraft," Toby said, taking a cigar out of his pocket and waving it briefly at the aide. " Bibbity-bobbity-boo. Huh. Nothing. Sorry."

"I think that's a fairy godmother," Charlie informed him flatly as Toby departed for the terrace. "Totally different from a witch."

Up next: Chapter 19: **Da**** Vinci's Ladder**


	19. Fragile Balance

**Title: Heaven and Hell:** **_Fragile Balance _(Chapter 19)**  
**Authors**: Enigmatic Ellie  
**Webpage**: http/wingnuts.  
**Email:**  
**Notes:** Yeah, yeah, yeah. I took a hiatus. Any discouraging words and I'll do it again. I promise you: I'll finish the story eventually. Trust me.

**December 23, 5:37 p.m.**  
**Operations Bullpen**

"Josh?" his replacement assistant, Marcie, called from her desk in the bullpen as she stabbed the hold button on the phone.

"Josh!"

"He's down the hall with Leo," Margaret said as she dropped two briefing books on the assistant's desk. "Don't let him forget to take these home tonight. Leo wants to bump up the afternoon meeting tomorrow on the Artic Refuge to 7 a.m. and shift the Korean trade meeting to 3 p.m."

"The Korea meeting is on the schedule for one," Marcie said spying her ever changing, color coded chart.

Keeping track of the deputy chief of staff's schedule required two palm pilots, copious post-it notes and a slide ruler—and that was on a slow day during the holiday season when Congress was out of session.

"Not any more," Margaret said. "Leo has a meeting with chairman of the base realignment committee now. He'll want Josh in on the second half of that as well. It's a light day with the President leaving for New Hampshire at 2 so Leo wanted to make the most of the morning."

"So he wants Josh to blow off the Surgeon General on the stem cell thing," Marcie smirked. "He'll appreciate that."

"Not for long," Margaret said. "Leo wants him to take that meeting, too." "You want me to put him in two places at once?"

"If it's not too much trouble," Margaret nodded.

"For a mere mortal, perhaps," Marcie said proudly.

"You've become quite a fan," the secretary observed.

"I was talking about me not him," Marcie sneered. "He is a royal pain in the ass and Donna gets special credit for putting up with him as long as she has."

"And now she's married to him and expecting twins," Margaret shook her head in disbelief. "I find it a little confusing."

"I think she needs comprehensive therapy," Marcie shrugged as she made the necessary adjustments to her schedules. "Does Leo need him right now?"

"I think Leo just wanted to be away from Sam while he works on a speech for Belgium, and being anywhere around Josh is the best way to do that right now, but you didn't hear that from me," the secretary said in a conspiratorial tone as she moved away to deliver the rest of Leo's edicts for the staff.

Marcie stood from her desk and hurried down the hall and eventually found her boss talking to his. Both men sported aggravated expressions.

"Excuse me, Mr. McGarry," she said interrupting. "Josh, you have a call."

"Take a message," he said. "It's David Romney," she said. "He said you'd want to take the call." "

The results," Josh said expectantly.

"Results?" Leo asked, unaware of who or what David Romney was specifically though the name did sound familiar.

"Connecticut," Josh said. "The cancer thing."

"Go," Leo said dismissing him easily.

How his deputy had found time in his schedule for this project, he did not know. He suspected it was done late in the evenings when he was allegedly at home spending time with his wife. However, as she was reportedly nearly falling asleep at her desk by 4 p.m., Leo suspected the evenings at the Lyman house were quiet and allowed for ample time to make phone calls and assist with strategy.

Josh hurried down the hall at his typical brisk clip and grabbed the phone on his desk. "

Dave?"

"Josh, we got it!" the man cheered. "They agreed to the deal. The union and the city council. They just voted and it passed. We got it!"

"Yes," Josh said and clenched his fist in victory. "Have you talked to the mayor?"

"No, but the governor called," Romney said.

"Let him make his statement, but the hospital administrator has to appear with the Mayor on this one—tonight if possible," Josh ordered. "Grab whatever photographer the paper sent to the meeting and get that done now. Let the Mayor talk first—or the council chairman, whoever wants to. Your guy can do his bit second—they need this for some economic leverage in the next election cycle. Your donors won't be reading the local papers. Let these guys have the spotlight for the next day or so." "

Got it," Romney agreed. "We're going to actually just grin for the photo and applaud them, like you said. We'll release our own full statement thanking the city tomorrow."

"Perfect," Josh said. "Slow news day. It'll give the story more mileage. People like to think that the coming new year is going to be better than the last. This should do it."

"Let's hope so," Romney said with relief. "Josh, how… How do I thank you?"

"Find a cure," Josh said simply then disconnected after several more minutes of praise from his former high school cohort turned public relations guru for the Yale-New Haven Hospital.

"What was that about?" Marcie asked leaning on the door, puzzled by her boss's eager and pleased demeanor.

"The wise and honorable officials of New Haven have approved a measure that clears the way for a half a billion dollar cancer treatment and research center to be built," he explained as he grabbed his coat. "The best research scientists in the world are going to work there and with any luck…"

"Find a cure," Marcie nodded, understanding Josh's sole request to the man on the phone clearly now.

"That's the goal," he said.

"And how do you fit into this?"

"I don't," Josh said.

"But someone from Yale called you to say thank you anyway?" she questioned.

"I helped a friend with some planning," he said. "And made a few phone calls that caused a few other phone calls from other people. Just a little helping hand here and there."

"Why?" she asked. "I mean, don't you know how to take time off or must you politick every hour of the day?"

"People deserve the best care possible when fighting cancer and this project is going to improve everyone's odds of survival someday," he said. "Anyone who can help in any small way owes it to themselves and everyone else to do what he can."

"Very altruistic," Marcie said. "This has nothing to do with you being from that area?"

"I'm from Westport, not New Haven, though I was born there—at the hospital in fact," he said as he grabbed his bag and turned off his light in preparation to head home.

"I wasn't sure if we were going to start hearing those rumors of you leaving DC and returning to your small town roots to be governor or something again," Marcie said as she returned to her desk.

"I have no interest in being elected to anything," he promised.

"So this guy you know just called you to pull strings because he knows you're such a crusader against fatal illnesses that you would take the request as a moral imperative to help?" she ventured.

"Sure that plus, David's sister was my babysitter when I was a kid," he recalled. "She was hot; he had her call and ask me to help. She's the head of their finance department."

"Your righteousness and valor make me just all warm and tingly some times, Josh," Marcie nodded as she handed him his evening reading. "You're a real gentleman."

"I'm gone for the evening," he called over his shoulder as he departed the bullpen toward the northwest lobby. As he did, Marcy's phone trilled to life.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**Oval Office**  
**5:42 p.m.**

"Was Josh still here?" Bartlet asked as he looked up from his desk to Charlie who entered the room with a message.

"Marcie was going to chase him down," the aide replied. "He hadn't quite left yet."

"We're going to owe that girl new sneakers the way we have her chasing him," the president remarked. "Donna never seemed to do so much running."

"I think that's because Marcie is only five feet tall," Charlie nodded. "The difference in leg length gives the impression that Marcie runs more."

"You given that some thought," Bartlet remarked in a sly tone. "Perhaps if you had done the same regarding a certain gift, I might be able to enjoy my evening tomorrow."

Charlie sighed. He had confessed his failure to purchase a gift for the President's daughter to the Commander-in-Chief and had been punished with the "why do you put me through this" gaze, occasional sigh and a seemingly unrelenting stream of Christmas carols in Latin (matched with a language lesson on the verse) throughout the day. While the President made no comment on what he thought of the current incarnation of the Charlie/Zoey coupling, he did like to have family peace at the holidays. Charlie knew from both the President and the First Lady's social secretary that Zoey was in a testy mood and it was being attributed to Charlie's disclosure to her after the Congressional Christmas party that he had not purchased any gift—proper or not—for her. He was rethinking his stance on honesty being the best policy.

"I'll go see if Josh is coming," Charlie said and shuffled out of the room as a faint humming noise from the President's throat signaled that the next round of Latin choruses was on its way.

Charlie looked down the hallway leading to his office and did not see the Deputy Chief of Staff. It would take him several minutes to drop his jacket and bag in his office (or at least on Marcie's desk) then make his way to the Oval. Charlie had been pleased to hear that Josh was nearly out of the building when he called looking for the man. It was not that he liked extending the man's work day. Instead, Charlie was pleased to note that Josh himself was leaving the building before 7 p.m. on a week night.

Granted, very little was happening as Congress was out of session for two more weeks and they were on the verge of a holiday, but it was not unheard of for Josh to remain at work until after midnight, even on Christmas Eve itself. His schedule of late was much more restricted. He was going home to see his wife and be a real person. That thought made Charlie smile when he considered it for a moment. Everyone on the building seemed to place their work before all else. And while what they did was of immense importance, there was more to life than the next bill or the latest polls.

Charlie knew too well how fleeting life could be and how valuable time with one's family was. He was certain Josh was also aware of that long before he was married and awaiting the birth of his children. Still, it was nice to see that he was learning to divide his time when possible and enjoy these moments for they would not come again.

"The President left for the evening?" Leo asked as he entered the outer office.

"No, he's finishing some reading and waiting for Josh," Charlie said.

"He's going to talk to him about the California thing?" Leo asked.

"I think so, but he was mostly serenading me as punishment for being a poor consumer," Charlie noted.

"Earrings, Charlie," Leo shook his head as he walked toward the Oval Office. "They cover a lot of ground. Their personal and affectionate without any promises."

"So you're saying I should have asked you?" Charlie sighed.

"I was waiting for two weeks and then you blew it," Leo shook his head. "Sorry, kid." "

Yeah," Charlie said, sinking into his chair as the Chief of Staff entered the Oval Office.

From inside, the president's holiday lyrics could be heard.

"_Attende ad te, noli flere," _Bartlet sang. "_Noli ploarare ausculta me. Nicolas venit ad nos_."

"Good evening, Mr. President," Leo said as he approached the man and interrupted the next verse. "So we're throwing separation of church and state out the window for the holiday season."

"Au contraire," he replied. "And you would know that if you were listening."

"I was listening; I just wasn't translating," Leo corrected the man.

"Well, if you had, you'd know that it was a children's carol and not a religious one," Bartlet informed his Chief of Staff. "Santa Claus is Coming to Town actually. Did CJ tell you that the second graders at that school in Maryland learned it in Latin especially for me? It was a wonder, Leo. They may be on to something. Teach ever child in this nation in Latin during second grade. They'd all grow to love it and continue on with their studies independent of their schools and raise the level of education by their own tiny boot straps. That is my Christmas Wish this year."

"Can I just say how glad I am yet again that the Press Room is clear on the other side of the building," Leo remarked. "Statements like that are why we have a Press Secretary that acts as a go-between from this office to their cameras."

"You'll be getting a lump of coal this year from me," Bartlet vowed. "It'll be a shiny lump of coal, but a lump of coal all the same."

"I'm sure I'll treasure it all the same, sir," Leo shook his head. "Charlie said Josh is on his way."

"Let me talk to him," Bartlet said.

"Mr. President, this isn't as big of a deal as you seem to think," Leo said. "Give him the order and he'll do it."

"I know that, but I don't want to just bark at him like some grouchy old professor who's had enough of the two class clowns fooling around in the back of the room," Bartlet said.

"Well, half of that is true," Leo remarked.

"If you want even that lump of coal you'll just nod when I venture you meant the part about the class clowns being true and not the old grouchy professor part," Bartlet said.

"Not a lot of use for coal at my place," Leo shrugged.

**XXXXXXXXX**

**Lyman House**  
**6:30 p.m.**

Donna sat on the couch covered in the recently opened gift her brother had sent her. It was a heavenly and thick fleece blanket guaranteed not to pill or shed. She could not resist opening the package after finding it on the door step when she arrived home late that afternoon. The size of the box was suspicious. She wondered for a moment, after looking at the return address, if Ralph had merely wrapped boxes inside boxes and merely given her something small and light. It would be like him to put her through that level of aggravation; he was juvenile in comfortable way. She also knew he would not mind if she opened it before Christmas as he had sent her email two weeks ago stating he opened his gift from her (and those she sent his children) immediately upon their arrival. He had recently adopted Josh's axiom of "impatience is a virtue."

The blanket proved to be a wonderful gift and perfect for the moment. She did not feel comfortable starting a fire as the glass and iron screen that shielded the room from sparks was heavy and lifting anything greater than five pounds was on her list of Don'ts from the doctor after her latest check up. Though it was not cold in the house, she could hear the wind moaning outside bringing a dusting of snow and just the thought of the weather made her feel cold. The blanket, however, was perfect for warding off the imaginary chill she felt.

She nestled herself in the couch and looked at the clock on the mantel—a gift from Josh's mother for her birthday two months earlier. She had expected Josh to be home by this time, but was not prepared to worry. In fact, she was strictly forbidding herself to get used to him being around so frequently in the evenings. At this time of year, the schedule was lighter. They would not be so fortunate once Congress was back in session. Bored and slightly lonely, she picked up the phone and dialed the Florida number.

"Donna, dear?" Anna Lyman answered the phone.

"You know, it could be Josh calling one of these times," Donna replied.

"Joshua never calls me on a week night," she replied. "Besides, I just received email from him an hour ago. Why don't I hear him in the background telling you what to tell me?"

"Oh, he's not home yet," Donna said.

"He said he was leaving after he sent the message and going home," Anna said slightly concerned.

"I'm sure he just got hung up at the office," Donna assured her, though she suspected she hear the woman turn on her television and turn it to CNN to be certain there was no breaking news that would break the woman's heart. "There's no reason to worry. Marcie will call if he's going to be very late."

"If you say so," she said. "I'm not sure how I feel about this new girl. I don't know much about her. Joshua doesn't mention her often."

"I should hope not," Donna chuckled. "She's just his assistant."

"Well, he used to mention you all the time," Anna began then back-peddled. "Of course, I knew you were special. Still, I just like to know the kind of people who are working with my... I'm doing it again; I know. But you'll know what I'm talking about soon enough."

Donna smiled but made no comment. She knew that despite all his attempts to prove to her that he was an adult and could take care of himself, Josh's mother would always consider him her baby, her little boy. It annoyed him at times and made him silent in a guilty way in at others.

"I will," Donna said after a moment. "Then you can be here and help me share the worry; we'll make a schedule on who gets to worry the most about which of the babies on what days. We can make a chart and color-code it so there won't be any confusion."

"Sarcasm I expect from Joshua," Anna said tartly though there was a grin in her voice. "From you I expect better, Donna."

"I'll just blame Josh for my insolence," Donna chuckled. "I see him much more now that I don't work with him. I think the proximity is causing me to pick up bad habits."

"So you've forgiven him since last Saturday?" Anna asked.

She had called on Sunday morning and found Donna in a sour mood after when she considered to be an embarrassing evening the night before; Leo had come to the house for dinner and a meeting with Josh away from the office. Donna had been thrilled to have their first non-relative over for dinner. She had labored for two hours in the kitchen. And while the meal had been, in Leo's own words, delightful, Donna was mortified. Without realizing it, she had brushed up against the countertop that had been dusted in flour. As she could no longer see all the aspects of her abdomen, she had not noticed.

Long after Leo left for the night, she had spied the swath of white powder around the bulging sides of her belly. Josh, too, had seen it hours earlier, but said nothing for reasons he did little to explain. His smirk might have been considered sexy to her in other circumstances. However, at that instant, she felt mostly like a sack of flour and said so. When Josh laughed outright at the description, she handed him a pillow and reminded him there were extra blankets in the down stairs coat closet. She made it a point to tell on him the next day when she spoke to his mother.

"I actually forgot that I was mad," Donna confessed. "I do that a lot more lately. My doctor says its normal with the hormone shifts, but I find it disturbing that my brain can turn to mush so easily. You'd think when your body was gearing up for motherhood that nature would have found a way to improve mental acuity rather than… than… See, now I'm losing my vocabulary. What were we talking about?"

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**Oval Office**  
**7:45 p.m.**

"The House Bill will have more teeth," Josh explained to the President. "We only got a peek at it this afternoon, but we already know what they're going to seek. They want more latitude for Immigration Judges, more officers patrolling the border, stricter penalties for those who re-enter the U.S. illegally after they've been deported."

"But they're also talking about changing citizenship requirements," Bartlet said.

The President sat in a chair beside the two couches in the room. His Chief of Staff and the man's deputy flanking him. They had been discussing hot button topic for roughly an hour as they prepared their strategy for the coming congressional session.

"That is on the table," Josh said. "What changes they want specifically, I can't say for certain, but you can bet it'll be a higher standard for English comprehension, fewer avenues to becoming a citizen through birth and possibly more provisions for revoking citizenship gained through naturalization."

"We can't even hold our third graders to higher comprehension of the English language and now we're supposed to expect someone from a different country, raised with a different language, to be smarter and more adept with a language than those who are born here?" Bartlet asked.

"Might give us some leverage on the Education package," Leo said. "We've tested the waters a bit and if we stiffen our stance a little… just a little, it might go a long way to getting the teaching incentives and new literacy programs we talked about during the campaign."

"It's a separate standard," Bartlet argued. "And they want to be able to revoke citizenship with greater ease? There isn't even a word for the disparity that creates between those who have citizenship through _jus soli_ verse those who have it through the principal of _jus sanguinas."_

"They want to take _jus soli_, or law of place, out of the equation," Josh said carefully. "The Texas delegation believes, and with great cause, that the border regions have turned into maternity wards. The burden it places on these rural communities and their health care and school systems is crippling."

"They want a better life and this is where they dream they can get it," Bartlet sighed. "I know we have to do something, but I don't see making English the national language—yeah, I know that's in the bill, too, blame Leo for having lunch with me today—or through setting up a separate court system to decide who is and who is not an American that we want to keep is morally conscionable."

"The Texas Democrats will have their own bill," Josh explained. "They want to increase border security and expand the agricultural worker programs. They want to increase the number of visas and broaden what's known as 240 proceedings. Those are the expedited removal procedures that bypass the immigration courts for sending illegal immigrants back to their home countries who have no claim to asylum."

"Won't that just increase the asylum claims?" Leo asked.

"It might, but those who make claims to asylum have extra hurdles," Josh explained. "They actually get a hearing, but if the judge finds their claims to be frivolous, they have a permanent bar to every gaining any lawful status in the U.S."

"The more they flood the system with iffy cases, the more harsh judges are going to be," Leo noted.

"Basically, it's a big risk to claim asylum if you don't really have a case," Josh said.

"It's a bigger risk to swim the Rio Grande in the dark hoping to find the shore on the other side or to pay a smuggler who might just as soon rape or beat you or sell you into slavery along the way in order to get here," Bartlet said. "They die in the deserts; they drown in the rivers; they are victims of violent and reprehensible crimes in their efforts to get to a place they believe is Canaan. Surely a nation such as ours has a better alternative for them. Gentlemen, what I'm asking is: When am I going to see a bill that deals with the real problem here?"

Josh and Leo were quiet for a moment.

"Mr. President, we can't fix Mexico," Leo sad after several long seconds of silence. "The American people want us to stop the flow of illegal immigrants into this nation, but they don't want us to spend that same money to help Mexico build a stable economy or improve their health care and social infrastructure."

"They're rather we spend it on men with guns protecting and invisible line in the sand," Bartlet observed. "It's a better bargain and has more long range benefits if we help a neighbor better itself so it can take care of it's own people."

"Or we could always just annex Mexico," Josh offered. "Call it South Texas."

Barltet sighed and looked at the Deputy Chief with a mixture of admonishment and irreverent respect. "If you're thinking of drawing district lines and making citizens of the newly minted state of South Texas, something tells me Puerto Rico have some issue with that," Bartlet replied.

"So we take them both on at the same time," Josh shrugged. "It's gotta be easier to put an even number of stars on the flag than an odd number."

"I'll think it over when I place the star atop my tree in New Hampshire tomorrow, Josh," Bartlet chuckled.

Leo stood, sensing the meeting was now over. He thanked the President and left the room. Josh's intention was to do the same, but he was stopped by the President.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**Communications Bullpen**  
**8 p.m.**

"I've decided to keep paragraphs 14 through 26 for the Belgium thing," Toby said offhandedly in a bored tone as he wandered into Sam's office. The junior speech writer was in the middle of redrafting those precise paragraphs—at Toby's insistence.

"Okay then," Sam said with relief. "I can't tell you how much I enjoy this time of year. The holiday spirit really brings out the best in you, Toby."

"I'm keeping them because I'm displeased with the Belgian's lack of criticism of Germany's current leadership and I think paragraphs 14 through 26 are unusually boring and reach that subtle level of cruelty I like to show those I disdain," he announced.

"Kids mistake you for Santa in the malls, don't they?" Sam observed as he leaned back in his chair, glad to be done with the task at hand. "Leo sent me email. I'm being pulled off the Education funding thing, or well, partly pulled off. I somehow inherited immigration reform. It's because I have connections in California, right?"

"It's because you have connections in California," Toby agreed.

"Good, because I was hoping it wasn't because he thought I could speak Spanish well," Sam said. "I can, but I thought that would be a pretty shallow reason. I've worked with State on some immigration related issues before, but generally Leo gives this sort of thing to Josh. In fact, I thought he was giving it to Josh again." "

He is," Toby informed him and offered him a long and appraising gaze.

Sam sat forward and looked hard at Toby for a moment as thoughts crackled in his mind.

"This isn't some sort of intervention thing is it?" Sam asked quickly. "He gives us an assignment to work on together and hopes that we get through our problems and solve the countries hemorrhaging border issues at the same time?"

"No, but it might make a good after school movie," Toby said. "Look, he needs Josh to take the point on the Hill about it, but we've got a few key races in California this year and this issue is going to be at the top of the polls. Nobody cares that you and Josh broke up."

"And I'm needed for this because…?"

"Because it's too big for just one person anyway," Toby explained tiredly. "You're both going to be with the committee members and the various interest groups from January until May. It means a lot of meetings, a lot of media and a lot of travel."

"Josh has no trouble with this sort of thing," Sam said. "I'm not saying I do. In fact, I embrace the opportunity to tackle this issue, but what I am saying is that I don't see why of all the people who could be paired to take the point on this that it should be Josh and me. He could take Ed or Larry or even…"

"The President and Leo agreed and that's good enough for me," Toby said.

"Toby."

"His wife is having twins, Sam," Toby growled as he turned to leave the room. "There is a chance that when this comes down to the wire that Josh is going to be dealing with a woman in labor. The President wants his top staffers on this. He's telling Josh about it now. So enjoy your holiday and be back here on Tuesday ready to fix the unfixable problem."

"You mean immigration and not Josh and me right?" Sam asked the empty doorway.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Oval Office**  
**8:02 p.m.**

"You seem apprehensive all of a sudden, Josh," Bartlet noted.

"Charlie said you've been singing Christmas songs in Latin all day," Josh replied. "It might not have come up in the last six years or so, sir, but I happen to be allergic."

"My wife's a very good doctor," Bartlet reminded him. "I'm sure you'd survive."

"It's the pain that I would like to avoid most, sir," Josh answered.

"Have a seat," Bartlet suggested as he returned took a place on one of the couches. "You're in luck. I'm only serenading Charlie. His honesty is the best policy approach to Zoey's gift has compromised the zero tolerance for sulking I impose on my family gatherings at Christmas. I heard a rumor that you were part of the brainstorming session that prompted him to take that approach."

"Doesn't really sound like my kind of idea," Josh said guiltily. "I'm a big advocate for lying to those you care about most."

"Fair enough," Bartlet smiled and let the subject drop. "How is Donna these days? I never see her any more. Leo tells me she's sequestered in a cubical in across the alley."

"She's on a special project for the legislative liaison office," Josh explained. "She's doing the long term research on a few upcoming bills. She actually prepped the memos that Leo and I used to brief you on the immigration thing."

"You didn't answer my question," Bartlet said.

"Sir?"

"Josh, I didn't ask you as your boss to answer me as hers," Bartlet laughed dryly. "I asked you one man to another: How is your expectant wife?"

"Sorry," Josh said. "I missed that. Uh, she's fine."

"Feeling well?" "Tired mostly," Josh answered.

"She wasn't pleased to be moved out of the West Wing at first, but now she's just glad for the shorter walk between her car and her desk. She said something about wanting sled dogs if the snow ever gets deep this winter."

"Charlie told me you were nearly out of the building when we summoned you here, is that true?" the president asked. "Josh Lyman is capable of leaving the office before seven o'clock on a week night without succumbing to some sort of convulsive fit? I wasn't aware such a thing was possible."

"I'm incredibly resilient, sir," Josh assured him.

"I'm glad—not that you're developing a minor invincibility complex, I've seen that coming for years—but that you're taking this time," Bartlet said approvingly. "It's important. I know what we do is also important, but they're different. There's a better way and more eloquent words than that to explain it, I'm sure, but I don't think you need them. You understand me, don't you?" "

Yes, sir," Josh nodded.

"This immigration thing isn't going to be easy and it's going to be a lot of work," Bartlet continued. "Now, I know I don't need to tell you that. I also don't need to tell you I'm not talking about this being just another bill to create new kinds of visas or more visa numbers available or bat around plans that mean amnesty but avoid that word like a plague. I'm talking about what Leo said we can't do."

"Mexico," Josh nodded.

He knew the President was not going to take that off the table nor did he and Leo ever dream it possible the man could be convinced to do so.

"And Honduras and Guatemala and El Salvador," Bartlet continued. "If they have a country with opportunities and infrastructure and order, they'll want to stay and help it prosper. When our neighbors do well for themselves, we do well in return. We're all safer with strong and viable countries at our shoulders."

Josh nodded. He had put Donna on half a dozen foreign aid package research projects just after Thanksgiving in anticipation of this request.

"And it can't be done alone," Bartlet said.

"You want us to ask Canada?" Josh questioned in surprise.

"I meant you," the president explained. "This is a mighty task I've given you and don't think I don't know you can't do it yourself, but it's not the only thing on your plate. We need you on 40 other things that are also a priority. This one is monstrous, Josh. It would be been an impossible request at any time, but at this time, you've also got personal responsibilities."

"Sir, I can assure you…," Josh began.

"You can say the words, but I'm not buying it, Josh," Bartlet shook his head. "I know first-hand the sacrifices the families of my administration make. It can't be helped. But there are certain things where I draw the line. If this thing comes to a head one day in April and I have to put you on a plane to go talk the governor of Colorado from signing some cockamamie bill that refuses to give business licenses to people with brown skin and suspiciously Mexican sounding names, I'm not going to hear the end of it."

"Sir, Donna wouldn't…"

"I'm talking about my wife there not yours," Bartlet said. "But for the record, don't be so sure about Donna. It wouldn't be the first time she's scolded me for treating you improperly, and she'd be right.. I'm not going to make this easy for you—no one could—but I am going to give you the level of help you need to get it done."

"Toby?" Josh asked.

He wasn't sure Toby would be the right person. His politics were further to the left than Josh's usually and that was not going to work well with the tensions in the west and south west over this issue and it certainly would not gain them any points or concessions with the Republican held Congress.

"His better half, actually," Bartlet said. "I want you and Sam to wrestle with this thing."

"All right," Josh said automatically.

Bartlet eyed him briefly then sighed.

"We may all play nice when we're in this room, but I'm not fooled," the President said. "The Cold War is over in Europe, but it rages everyday in this building between the two of you. So, I'm telling you precisely what I'm going to tell Sam: Whatever it is that is going on between the two of you has no place in this office. Whatever you're doing now to keep this détente functioning, I don't care; it's a fragile balance that much I can see. Well, I want to be more than that. Forget it or fix. Those are your only options. Josh, you're my guy on this; you're the one running this battle with the Hill on immigration reform and Sam is your second in command. What you know, he knows. You work together on all of it. You have productive debates and you bring me results. Nothing else matters. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir," Josh said.

**_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_**

**Corridor Outside the Briefing Room**  
**December 31, 2 p.m.**

CJ Cregg exited the briefing room brushing glitter from her hair. The New York Times contingent had rained the shiny shards onto the room in celebration of the last briefing of the year.

"So you're gonna have something for us on the plan to prop up Mexico after next week, right?" Danny Concannon said, falling into step beside her.

"And Happy New Year to you, too, Danny," CJ replied. She had spent the end of the briefing dodging that very question.

"Come on," he cajoled her. "I can tell you for a fact that the leak on this one comes directly from the Deputy Chief of Staff's Office."

"You can tell me that for a fact?" CJ questioned. "You say there's a leak. We haven't even begun the session; there have been no meetings and no discussions, but already there's a leak?"

"Yeah," Danny nodded.

"Marcie would be the most likely to know as she's one of the few people actually in the building this week who is working closely with Josh on anything," CJ countered. "I know for certain that if there was anything to know she'd guard it with her very shiny red nails. I'd bet my next 10 paychecks on that."

"Well, your bank account is safe," Danny agreed. "Marcie doesn't like or trust me."

"She's a very smart woman," CJ replied. "I'm thinking of hiring her when Donna returns."

"I'm saying Marcie isn't the leak," Danny continued.

"The leak that doesn't exist," she nodded. "Well, that's for that confirmation. You guys at the Post really are sharp."

"Advanced is a more accurate term—some of us are morons, present company excluded," Danny said as he followed her into her office. "I know that once discussions start, they're gonna focus in part on a foreign aid package to fix Mexico's economy and help them shore up their southern border in an effort to further slow the illegal aliens flooding across ours. I'm asking when you think you'll have the first hints of that for us. For me."

"Danny, you can't tell me you know there's a leak when there isn't one then try to make me become it," CJ sighed.

"Okay, I didn't ask you to leak, I asked you for information—not the same thing," Danny said. "And there is a leak."

"In the DCoS's office," she nodded. "Right. I'll get Josh on that right now."

"You don't have to," Danny said. "Josh is the leak."

"What?"

"A controlled leak," Danny explained. "He had lunch with me today and told me to start needling around for this information, so I'm just doing my job and a favor to an old friend who happens to be well-placed politically at the moment."

"Josh told you he was going to leak information to you and that he wanted you to come to me to seek confirmation of the information that I know nothing of yet?" she asked.

"No, he said he will give me information as they piece things together as a means to test the waters without having to test the waters and he trusts me to ferret out any other problems or reactions that will go with whatever ideas are being floated for the reform package," Danny informed her. "He also mentioned that none of this would begin happening until after the second week of the session but that I should feel free to start my digging and if I could annoy you in the process it would just be a bonus to both of us."

"Both or who?"

"Well, I'd like to think you and I, but something tells me Josh gets a kick out of giving you headaches from a distance so he can watch and pretend he's not responsible," Danny shrugged. "Hey, I've known the guy a long time and he has an odd sense of humor. So, you have a date for this evening?"

"A date?" CJ asked taken aback. "What's that got to do with immigration or Josh Lyman's juvenile behavior?"

"Nothing," Danny replied. "Well, not totally nothing. I asked Josh if he knew if you had a date for New Year's Eve and he said you didn't. Some times he doesn't give me the whole story on these things, like his hint about gold fish a few years ago—again, he's got an odd sense of humor. But I've thought about this and I don't see how he could be laughing at me from afar right now, so here I am. What's your answer?"

"My answer?"

"To the date question," Danny prompted. "Was he right?"

"That's none of his or your business," she replied mildly embarrassed.

"Right, so I'm thinking I can bring take out over to your place and we can that kid who's trying to replace Dick Clark on TV," Danny offered. "In honor of the whole immigration topic, I was going to bring Mexican. Oh, and there's this good Argentinean place that just opened down the block from my place, so I thought I'd grab some of that, too. How does 9 sound?"

CJ sighed. She wasn't sure how much of this discussion was being held to keep her off guard and possibly trick her into giving away information she did not have or intend to leak and how much was just smoke to keep her off balance on a personal level. Considering the source of the questioning, both were equally likely. "I have plans," she said after a moment's contemplation.

"Josh doesn't know everything."

"Actually, it wasn't really Josh so much on the fact that you have no date—which you don't," Danny continued. "I was on a roll and just went with it. So he and Sam are playing in the sandbox again. What's it been about, anyway? The rumor is that Sam made a pass at Donna, but I don't buy it. He was all freaked out last January when he thought he'd put the love whammy on Donna."

"The love whammy?" CJ repeated. "Were exactly is that located?"

"I'd be happy to show you tomorrow evening if there's time after our discussion about immigration reform and signing _Auld Lang Signe_," Danny said. "I'm a tenor, by the way, in case you're interested in harmonizing. I'm really quite good in the shower in the mornings—another thing you could perhaps find out someday if you play your cards right and treat me with respect and dignity."

"What does that have to do with Sam and Josh?" she asked.

"Nothing really," Danny answered. "I've never been interested in showering or singing with either of them, though Josh does claim there was one time back in 1996 after Congressman Brennan had this St. Patrick's Day party at his place that I said Sam was…"

"Danny, I have work," CJ said cutting off the anecdote.

"Actually, you don't," he said sitting on the edge of her desk. "How I know this is that just a few minutes ago in the briefing room you said you were done for the day and I know the President is leaving for Camp David in 20 minutes. He's in the residence watching Mrs. Bartlet repack her suitcase. So Josh and Sam—everything's copasetic there?"

"Sam and Josh are old friends," CJ said. "There's never been any tension between them due to any competition over Donna's affection."

"I didn't buy that excuse either," Danny offered. "It was something else. It was more personal, which is the only reason Josh is struggling to work so closely with Sam right now. They're not best friends by any stretch of the imagination right now, but they're tolerating each other at the request of the President. Sam will be traveling a lot and dealing with the western and southern governors as well as the immigrant advocacy groups on the ground while Josh wades into the soup on the Hill. It should keep them sufficiently separated until they decide whether they hate each other or just don't like each other. It's a toss up right now. The line has it as ending in hate, but I'm sticking with not liking each other." "

So the venerable Washington Press Corps is really nothing more than a gossip tank?" CJ mused. "I was told so, but I never believed it."

"That's the White House grapevine, thank you very much," Danny informed her. "The Press Corps is still kicking around the idea that Josh is going to leave the administration entirely for a better offer in New York. Connecticut is a better place to raise little ones than around here. Have you ever considered it?"

"Leaving for New York?" she asked. "I'm considering booking a flight on expedia right now." "I meant living in a suburb, having a regular 9 to 5 job, chasing after children in the backyard?"

"New Year's makes you this introspective?" she asked.

"I rewrite my five-year plan every New Years Eve," Danny said, rising from his spot. "I'm starting early tonight. I'll finish it up at your place tonight. I'm just curious if you're interested in offering suggestions."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Lyman House**  
**6:23 p.m.**

Josh entered the house shaking off the chill as Donna had, yet again, parked her car in the middle of the garage rather than on the side where it belonged. He had no intention of mentioning it to her. Her reason for not parking correctly or straight she claimed were his fault. If she were to park on the side she chose upon moving into the house, she could not easily maneuver herself out of the car without bumping the door on the wall at this point. Josh didn't actually believe that but suspected Donna did. Nor did she see the logic in merely parking her car on the other side so that the driver's side door opened into the empty space where Josh's car would be eventually when he arrived. He wasn't sure why she did not agree to this and saw no point in continuing to suggest it. The room was warm and smelled like garlic and peanut butter, a combination that made his stomach turn but let him know Donna was experimenting in the kitchen again. This was a good early warning sign to not breath through his nose when opening the refrigerator that evening.

"Donna?" he called as he hung his coat in the hall closet.

"In here," she answered from the light spilling into the hall from the living room.

He followed the sound and found her seated on the sofa with a notebook in hand and a determined expression on her face.

"What are you doing?" he asked as he leaned on the back of the couch and kissed her cheek.

"Deciphering secret codes," she said as she scratched another word onto the page.

"You have that kind of clearance?" he asked as he came around the side and sat beside her. He lifted the book beside her and read the title. "The Name Book? What you are doing?"

"I thought I'd change my name," she said.

"What a wise idea, Donnatella?" he smirked. "Something simpler might solve all your troubles."

"I'm working on names for our children," she said unnecessarily. "I'm in charge of choosing our daughter's name, remember? I'm having a hard time narrowing it down."

"And what are your top choices this hour?" he asked.

They had been through this previously. She had settled on the name Stephanie only to have a convoluted dream which changed her mind. He was glad that he wasn't so fixated on this task. Weeks earlier when he was put in charge of coming up with three choices for the boy's name, it had taken him less than 10 seconds to do. He was now left to enjoy her frustration.

"Jennifer or Elizabeth," she said.

"Jenny Lyman?" Josh remarked. "Sounds like a sleazy talk show host. And Lizzie Lyman sounds like a kid just waiting to chop up her parents with an ax."

"I was going for Liz," Donna said.

"Liz is the name of slut," Josh replied shaking his head. "I went to high school with a girl named Liz, and she was voted most likely to do anyone."

"The President has a daughter named Liz," she reminded him as she drew a line through the name as she no longer wanted it either. "I'm sure he'd be pleased to hear your comment."

"Well, we don't need to tell him," Josh offered.

"I want her to have a name with an appropriate meaning," Donna said. "Donna means Lady, you know."

"In Latin it means to give," he said, shaking his head as he realized he had spent entirely too much time with the President that morning.

"And I've done that," Donna nodded. "I give you advice, support, love, honesty."

"Give me a break," Josh chuckled. "Other names?"

"Let's see," she said flipping back through her notes. "Samantha."

"I'd just as soon not give my daughter a name someone might shorten to Sam," he said sourly. "How many times have you read through that book?"

"Fourteen."

"You don't research anything this much when I pay you," he commented.

"That's because you don't pay me enough," she countered. "Besides, these are our children and I want the best names for them."

"Fine," he relented. "I just want to remind you that we agreed that it won't be anything trendy or stupid." "

And what falls into those categories today?" she asked.

He had been as critical as she had over the choice of their daughter's name.

"Nothing people can't pronounce without assistance," he said. "No earthy names: Leaf, dirt, river. There can't be anything worse than that. Except maybe a guy in his 30s named Skip. Who would do that to a kid?"

"What about Shauna or Christine?"

"You vetoed those last week," he reminded her as he pointed at the scratch marks in her research tome.

"Why is it that when I initially see them they seem fine to me but when I tell you my choices suddenly I don't like them either?" she asked. "How does Amber sound?"

"Like a prostitute," heanswered instantly.

"They're all good names, but I just know that they're other peoples' names and not hers," Donna sighed. "What about Roxanne?"

"Roxie Lyman," he cringed. "There is so much wrong with that that I don't know where to begin."

"Kelly?" Donna offered then backed off it herself and tossed her notes on the coffee table. "No. It makes me think of the color green. I don't think color association is what she needs. Oh, to hell with it. I'll just name her Snoopy."

"Well, we'd have to check into the copyright laws on that one," Josh said resting his arm over her shoulders comfortingly. "And really, naming her after a dog is probably going to put her in therapy for a long, long time. How long have you been working on this list tonight?"

"Since I got home at 3," she said with a slight pout to her lips. "I had nothing better to do anyway. I didn't, you know, have to get dressed for anything. Not that you've noticed, but it is New Year's Eve and we have no plans."

Josh said nothing. He had considered taking her out for the evening, but with her being so tired most of the time, he did not think it wise. However, he was not as insensitive as she seemed to think. He had noted she was rather blue since Christmas. He figured it was the anniversary of her father's death that had her down, plus the grayness of the weather.

"I don't know about you, but I have reservations," Josh said as he stood and looked down at her.

"Calling for take out isn't a reservation," she said dejectedly.

"No, but dinner at an Italian restaurant is," he informed her. "Now, I had intended to take you, but if you want me to find another date, I know Danny Concannon is feeling lonely this evening. Frankly, I feel more comfortable with you."

"You're serious?"

"Most of the time," he nodded as he headed back to the hall to grab his coat. "And right now, yes. We have a reservation at Sacchetti's. Get your coat; I'll warm up the car."

"Uh, Josh?" she called to him.

"What?"

"A little help?" she grunted as she attempted to dislodge herself from the deep and soft sofa cushions.

He returned and helped her stand with an amused look on his face.

"Is that why you're always sitting here when I get home?" he asked.

"Sometimes," she said. He kissed her quickly on the forehead as he smirked.

"You crack me up," he said.

"Go start the damn car," she snapped.

Josh did as he was told. He waited for her patiently, eyeing the clock knowing it would take her longer than he considered humanly necessary to don a jacket and lock the door. When she finally arrived and maneuvered herself into her seat she sighed heavily. Josh was about to close her door when she stopped him abrupt.

"Don't," she said, grasping the door frame and swinging her feet back onto the driveway.

"What?"

"I have to go to the bathroom," she said.

"Donna," he sighed. "You didn't know this before you walked outside?"

"I didn't have to until I sat down again," she replied in a testy tone. "Don't' get snappy with me. I'm hungry, too."

"Fine," he said, helping her stand.

"You try moving with four feet doing a kick line against your bladder and see how it feels," she said. "I'll right back."

"I'll be here," he said, leaning back on the vehicle. "Waiting."

When she finally returned 15 minutes later, she was holding a napkin and a half eaten bagel.

"Donna, we're going out to eat," he said helping her into her seat again. "You thought you'd have breakfast as an appetizer?"

"This will get me there without gnawing your arm off," she smiled sweetly. "Want some?"

"It's cream cheese, garlic powder and brown sugar on an raison bagel," he observed disgustedly. "No thanks."

They arrived 20 minutes later at a cozy, upscale bistro at the edge of Georgetown called Sacchetti's. It was a well known establishment to locals and some place tourists never seemed to locate. The owners were Italian nationals who started the business 20 years earlier and watched it steadily grow along with their fortune and popularity with the Washington regulars. Josh signaled to the host who recognized him instantly. Moments later, the large and boisterous owner appeared in front of Josh to greet him loudly and warmly.

"Ah, it's Joshua," the rotund proprietor bellowed as Josh approached the counter. "You are here!"

He had a thick Italian accent that sounded more like it belonged on a Saturday cartoon rather than a real person.

"Tony," Josh nodded. "We're a little late. You give away the table?" "

For you, never," Antonio Sacchetti announced coming around to greet him. "You no come around any more and suddenly Georgio tells me you call today. I say give him a table but leave him to me. I see you on the TV once in a while, but I don't listen. Too much yelling."

"On TV or from you and Maria," Josh chided the man.

"Uh, you funny boy still, eh?" Antonio grinned. "I hear you get married. Is someone telling me lies?"

"No, it's true," Josh replied and looked over his shoulder for Donna. "She was with me a minute ago."

"She leave you already?" the owner chuckled. "Why am I not surprised, eh? She probably no like all that yelling. Now, tell Tony. What you been doing that keeps you so busy you don't come see us?"

"I've been busy," Josh said, looking over his shoulder.

Donna then appeared in the hall and maneuvered herself to Josh's side.

"There she is," he said waving to herto get her attention.

"Momma mia!" the restaurateur proclaimed as he looked at her wide-eyed and his face split into a blinding grin. "You have been busy, uh?" "

Hi," Donna said, blushing.

"Tony, this is Donna," Josh introduced them. "Donna, Tony Sacchetti. He pretends to run this place, but if you ask me his wife's the one in charge." "

Notice how nobody ask you," Tony wagged a thick finger at Josh, then turned his grin to Donna as he ushered them into the dining room. "There's a lesson in there, I think. You learn, yes?"

"Not likely," Josh admitted.

"Fine, you don't learn but you eat, yes," Tony nodded then gestured toward the crowded seating area. "Let me take you to your table. People see me with you, they think you important. That'd be my Christmas gift to you, funny boy.""

He showed them to a private table near the windows that looked out onto the bustle of the icystreet. He made a grand gesture of pulling out Donna's chair and gingerly taking her by the arm and seating her comfortably. "

Now, you sit right here, pretty lady," he said. "Tony's going to take good care of you. You're my special lady this night. A beautiful face in my little _ristorante_."

"Tony, are you hitting on my wife?" Josh asked without sounding concerned or surprised.

"Shut up, you," he responded with a flip of his hand. "Now, pretty lady, I will introduce myself properly. I am Antonio Vito Sacchetti."

"Pleased to meet you, Antonio," Donna said pleasantly. "I'm Donna Moss."

"You sure you his wife?" he asked. "You too beautiful and seem too smart to do a thing like that."

"Yes, I am," she smirked. "But it's true though I kept my name. I decided the world wasn't ready for a Donnatella Lyman yet."

"Donnatella!" Antonio beamed then slapped Josh heavily on the shoulder, nearly knocking him back in his chair. "Oh m'god! She's Italian. You married a beautiful Italian girl. Good for you. Oh, Donnatella. It's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl!"

"My mother's family is Italian," Donna said.

"She was actually Canadian for a while," Josh said but was ignored by both of them.

"Oh, I think I'm in love," Antonio cooed as he pet her hand and grinned at her. "I'm a'gonna call you my bella Donnatella."

"That's original," Josh scoffed.

"I told you to shut up," Antonio snapped.

"No, you didn't," Josh observed.

"Fine, then I will right now," Antonio said. "Shut up, you."

"Yes, Josh, shut up," Donna grinned.

"Now, my beautiful lady, my bella Donnatella, I'm gonna make you dinner so good you gonna leave this funny boy and run away with me," Antonio promised.

"If the food tonight is half as good as your flirting, she'll leave with you right now," Josh muttered.

"I just may," Donna offered and kicked Josh lightly in the shin. "Good food and good compliments are a perfect combination to woman who hasn't seen her feet in weeks."

"And when is the bambino arriving?" Antonio asked.

"Not until April and it's not one, it's two," Donna said.

"Oh m'god," Antonio exclaimed. "Two? We're having two bambinos? I think I'm a'gonna cry."

"Me, too," Josh cut in. "Know why? I'm starving."

"Bella Donnatella, run away with me now and we leave the grouchy boy here to my Maria," Antonio said.

"Maria does love me," Josh grinned.

"Eh, that's my wife," Antonio growled. "

And that's mine," Josh said pointing at Donna. "Take 'em both if you like, just give me a menu, would ya?"

"Okay," Antonio relented and handed them the menus. "But I'm gonna come back and sing opera to this pretty lady."

"Bring breadsticks when you do," Josh said dismissing him as he started reading the menu. "

He's so adorable," Donna said still blushing.

"His accent gets thicker every year," Josh observed.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Arlington, VA**  
**Apartment of Mallory O'Brien**

Sam Seaborn stood at the pristine white door and waited for his knock to be answered. He knew Mallory was home. She had answered the buzz to allow him into the building. His plans for this New Year's Eve were solitary. He had roughly 600 pages of information to digest regarding the various proposal for dealing with the illegal immigration problem that was his latest and hottest task, plus three more drafts to complete for Toby for the President's education plans for next three years. All of this had him too keyed up to sit in his apartment at that moment. So, without much thought, he jumped into his car and drove to Mallory's apartment.

"Sam," she said uncomfortably as she stood in her door way with the door partially closed. "Now is not a good time."

"I know, but I really had to come here," he began, his glasses were still foggy from the temperature and humidity change from the street but he could see she was wearing a simple black dress that was both tasteful and formal.

"I'm glad to see you, but I have a guest," she said. The emphasis she placed on the last two words was all he needed to hear.

"I know," he announced as he pushed by her and stepped into the apartment. "I'm actually here to see your father not you. But it is good to see you."

Leo McGarry stepped out of the kitchen where he and his daughter had been conducting and animated and amicable debate on whether almonds were better chopped or slivered for the particular recipe she was preparing for their father/daughter dinner.

"Leo, I wanted to see you," Sam said eagerly. "I just… I wanted to tell you that I love my job."

"Did you drive over here?" Leo asked suspiciously as he looked at Mallory who just shrugged and looked slightly miffed at not being the point of this impromptu visit.

"I did, in fact," Sam said. "From my apartment, not a lounge or a bar, if that's what you're implying. I'm high on life right now, Leo. And do you know why?"

"Because you love your job?" he ventured as he returned to the kitchen with Sam in tow.

"Precisely," Sam said. "And I wanted to thank someone, in person. And you seemed like the best person as you're the one who hired me. Well, Toby did, but if you hadn't hired Toby… Well, you know, you might have hired me for Toby's job. And that would have been great, too. For me. Not for Toby."

"You want to keep that job?" Leo asked as he made motions with his hand for Sam to get to the point.

"I just wanted to thank you, in person," Sam said. "I know that sounds a little strange."

"A little?"

"But I really haven't been enjoying work for a while now," Sam said. "Ever since, well, you know. The thing with Josh. But it's okay now."

"Okay?" Mallory asked from the doorway. "He still loathes you. I know. I asked him. He said so."

"But to you and not to me," Sam beamed. "That's a huge step. It means he'll be able to forgive me one day. Maybe. That's a little thing we like to call hope in my world."

"We call it a delusion or wishful thinking in mine," Mallory said, taking a third plate from the cupboard after receiving a resigned shrug from her father as they communicated silently.

"We call it I'm hungry and don't care about any of this where I come from," Leo said. "In case anyone was wondering."

"I'm not saying an olive branch is showing up on my doorstep after the holiday, but it will one day and that's good enough for me," Sam said. "He still trusts me enough that we can work together. Sure, we haven't done much and our meetings are pretty short, but he speaks to me and not just at me all the time. That's a great start."

"The President told him he had play nice or he'd be grounded," Mallory said and watched her father scowl. "Dad, you told me that yourself and even if you hadn't, Donna told me as well. Josh is only dealing with Sam because he was ordered to by the President of the United States."

"But he could have resigned," Sam countered. "If he truly wants no part of something, Josh is more than capable of walking away entirely. No one thought he'd ever leave Hoynes when he was a senator, but what happened?"

"Dad used emotional blackmail to Bogart him from the prohibitive favorite to be the Democratic Presidential Nominee," Mallory said.

"Precisely, wait, what?" Sam asked.

"I should have fired you both last year after the election," Leo shook his head. "You both have a habit of annoying the hell out of me a lot lately. It's a very fine line between wanting either of you around and wanting you shipped to northern Idaho. If you two don't get something going that's at least viable on this immigration thing, I'm proposing we revoke your citizenship; that's one thing to which the President will agree."

**Up next:** **Chapter 20: Da Vinci's Ladder**


	20. DaVinci's Ladder

**Title**: Heaven and Hell (Chapter 20): _Da Vinci's Ladder_

**Author**: Enigmatic Ellie

**Email**:

**Notes**: I write. I post. I move on. If I get 5 minutes per day to do this, it's been a very good week. If you want me to make them presentable, then there won't be any more chapters. Whenever I publish out here, it means I got the writing jones for a little while the day before and found the time to assuage it. My editors would kill me if they knew I spent even 5 minutes doing this and the death would be much slower and more painful if they had any inkling that I commenced proofreading techniques as I've rarely ever given them that courtesy. And before anyone asks, yes, that includes not using spell check. This is raw writing people. You want polish, you should see my rate card for cost per word ratio.

**Deputy Chief of Staff's Office **

**January 6, 10:20 a.m. **

"These are leading Mexican economists now," Sam said, as he read from his report. "There's a belief that the Mexican economy could suffer greatly if we were to create a program similar to an amnesty because they think it will stop the money that illegals earn here from being sent back home like it is now."

"Once the aliens here can work legally, they're going to stop doing what they came here to do?" Josh asked skeptically and with difficulty.

His voice was raspy and had been for roughly a week. He suspected it was a cold as everyone else seemed to have one. Only he didn't recall ever having a cold quite like this. He had no congestion and no aches and pains. Perhaps he had a slight fever later in the evenings, but it was the raw feeling in the back of his throat that bothered Josh the most. It felt swollen and like it had been sprayed with acid.

"It's a report, Josh," Sam said disavowing his belief in it. "I'm just saying this is what they're going to throw at us when we bring up any humanitarian grounds for this."

"We're not talking amnesty," Josh said firmly.

"Amnesty by another name," Sam suggested.

"When I say we're not talking amnesty, I mean at all," Josh replied in tones that sounded harsher than he intended due to his near-laryngitis. "It's the mid-terms in 10 months. We can't be seen to be opening the flood gates on the southern border when we're trying to convince more than a dozen districts that we're serious about security and health care issues."

"I think we need to look beyond November," Sam argued.

"And I think we don't have a chance in hell of getting a comprehensive bill that does anything more than punish people who work in agriculture and the textile industry while letting the business owners off the hook for labor violations with the present Congress," Josh said. "Do you?"

"No," Sam agreed. "But this thing is here now. We have to get something on the table and get a vote on it by May. We can make corrections next year after its law."

"And it's not going to make it out of committee if we start using the word amnesty," Josh informed him then took a painful sip from his bottle of water.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, watching the man wince as he swallowed.

"Where are we on the funding for additional border security?" Josh asked, ignoring the question.

He was tired and did not feel well, but that was nothing new. He had felt this way for a while and did not like to discuss it with anyone. Considering his general opinion of Sam still, he was not an exception to that rule.

Sam looked down at his notes and prepared for the unpleasant part of the discussion. He was making no headway with the leadership on their support of funding and man-power issues for border security. No one wanted to be seen as cutting spending for security and enforcement issues, but no one was willing to say where the money for those expenditures would come from. It was a mid-term year and raising taxes was simply not done. Cutting funding in crucial areas that impacted hotly contested districts was also a nonstarter. Both sides of the aisle could agree something needed to be done, but no one was willing to go on the record with a plan for what specifically nor how to pay for those specifics. Not realistically anyway. There was much chatter on the far wings of both parties about dropping funding for the arts, for military expenditures, for the space program, for social programs.

"I'm guessing we're still not willing to shut down NASA or cut off funding for anyone doing art work other than a precise replicate of DaVinci's 'Last Supper'?" Sam questioned lightly, hoping to add levity to the conversation. Josh responded only with a cold, flat stare. "So that's a no. Okay, well, then we're no where."

"Great," Josh said. Or least, tried to say. The words didn't come out so much as an croaky noise. He tried to clear his throat twice but only raised tears in his eyes from the pain and effort before taking another agonizing sip of water.

Without being summoned, Marcy appeared in the door way and strode across the office with a purposeful stride. She slapped a tin of lozenges on his desk top and threw a glare at him before turning on her heel to depart as swiftly as she had appeared.

"I don't like eucalyptus," he said with difficulty in a loud whisper.

"I told you yesterday and the day before and I will tell you tomorrow: One, I don't care; two you need to see a doctor," Marcy retorted. "Whatever you have might be serious and contagious."

Josh paused. It had no occurred to him. His concern was for two people as Marcy's possibilities ran through his head. His first thought was of Donna. Though it annoyed her to no end of late, he did what he could take care of her when she would allow him. He did not care how often she lectured him about pregnancy not being an ailment or her condition not being in the category of infirm. He heard what her doctor told her and there was one term Donna could not sweep away with the flip of her hand: high-risk. He had not forgotten the angst of the late fall when they believed the pregnancy would fail and though that initial problem was no longer an issue, the fact that she carried twins was itself a complication.

His next thought was of the President. The leader of the nation's own health was something Josh did not generally concern himself with, but it only now occurred to him that if he was carrying something slightly more damaging than a cold, it could be unwise to have contact with the man on a regular basis.

"You can't afford to lose me to a sick day," Marcy continued as Josh's mind galloped off in a different direction.

"I'm sorry?" he said, mouthing the words more than saying them, though Marcy read his lips expertly.

"Yeah," she said. "You cough on a report or something and I pick it up. Next thing you know, I'm home sick and you're here running around trying to figure out where you're supposed to be at 10:30. By the way, you're going to be late for your legislative affairs meeting. Mural Room, in four minutes. The folks from legislative affairs are going to love your new inside voice."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx **

**OVAL OFFICE **

** 10:50 A.M. **

Leo walked into the Oval Office and greeted the President who was seated behind his desk wearing his reading glasses.

"The Kenyan Ambassador had to cancel," Leo said, axing their next meeting. "The Embassy sends it's regrets. We've rescheduled for tomorrow at 3."

"Good because I had no idea why we were meeting with him anyway," Bartlet said.

"They're acting as the go between for the…," Leo began.

"All right," Bartlet said waving off the discussion as he recalled a meeting the day before which had slipped his mind. "But I thought it was the Ambassador from Ghana who was going to…"

"It was," Leo confirmed. "Only they decided that Kenya made more sense so now that the meeting's been canceled they'll probably go back to talk to the people in Zaire and leave us out of it at this level completely. State's on top of the situation."

"How comforting," Bartlet shook his head. "Did you see this?"

"What?" Leo asked.

"This report from my security briefing this morning," Bartlet said with a twinkle in his eye. "NASA's latest plan for determining if there is water on the moon."

"An impact study?" Leo ventured. He was not familiar with the plan but was knowledgeable about the agencies likely procedures.

"It's the size of an SUV and will be striking the surface at nearly 6,000 miles per hour," Bartlet marveled. "The collision will be so violent, so awesome in nature that you'll be able to view it from Earth with even an amateur telescope."

"The debris cloud, you mean," Leo said. "You'd sort of expect something moving at 6,000 miles per hour to be hard to spot."

"Do you know how fast the moon travels around the earth?" Bartlet asked him tauntingly.

"In fact I do not," Leo said confidently. "However, its quite a bit bigger than an SUV so I think that makes a difference in the equation."

"Fair enough," Bartlet said as there was a knock on the door.

Josh stepped into the room to join them. He held the folders delivered by Marcy to him in his hand. He had completed his legislative meeting in record time—mostly because he had nothing to say that he could actually say quickly enough. He was mollified with the knowledge that everything was going according to his wishes at the moment so there was little guidance or input from him needed. Having been quiet for nearly 30 minutes straight, he felt more confident he would have a voice for this meeting.

"Josh, did you know that we're crashing an SUV into the moon and I'm going to watch it with a telescope from the Truman Balcony before I see the replay in the Situation Room?" Bartlet informed him grandly.

Josh looked at Leo with raised eyebrows for any sort of hint or guidance on what this pertained to but received none, which spoke volumes.

"NASA advisor was in on a briefing today?" Josh said in low but even tones.

"He was," Bartlet said energized as he sprang from behind his desk with great gusto and made his way to the sitting area in front of his desk. "We're looking for water on the moon. Ice crystals actually. The impact will excavate a crator the size of three football fields."

"Is that smart?" Josh asked.

"Smart?" Bartlet repeated.

"It won't affect the rotation or orbit or something?" Josh questioned.

"I honestly didn't ask," Bartlet said.

"Too busy citing in your binoculars?" Josh ventured.

"Telescope, not binoculars," Bartlet corrected. "And what is with all these hushed tones? Is this some new tactic by Donna to teach you about using an 'inside voice' or are you spreading disease through my White House?"

**xxxxxxxxxxxxx **

**Press Secretary's Office **

** 12:35 p.m. **

Toby entered CJ's office with his note book in hand. She was seated at her desk eating what appeared to him to be lawn clippings.

"Can I interrupt your grazing?" Toby ventured.

"Green food is not dangerous," she said, wiping a drizzle of Italian dressing off her chin.

"That's not what my mother taught me," Toby countered. "I wanted to remind you that you referred to them as illegals four times in the last three days."

"That's less than once per day," she noted.

"Yes, but it was actually twice today and once three days earlier," Toby said. "My point is, it's not helping."

"I hear you, Toby," she said testily. "But sometimes they questions come with the word in them and you can't help but repeat part of the question in giving the answer."

"The word alien is shorter," he said as if that simplified things.

"It's also a little ridiculous," she said. "Every time I hear the word, I don't think of migrant workers so much as I think of little gray guys who kidnap people with southern accents and to tests on them."

"Their legal definition is aliens," Toby reminded her.

"Yeah, and when I have the first briefing item about damage to the Mars probe then I go into talking about the government rounding up aliens, I end up on the front page of the National Enquirer with the creature of Independence Day giving me an engagement ring," she said. "I'll go back to aliens after the NASA stuff is off the schedule."

Toby shook his head. Her point was neither wise nor well-taken by him. Thankfully, he was spared the need to point this out because Carol arrived with a stack of messages and a folder for CJ.

"Sam said is having a lunch meeting over at the OEOB with Greer and Thomspon so he might have something for you at your two o'clock," the aide announced.

"Is Josh meeting with the chairman?" CJ asked.

She was aware they were tasked to work together and that it was a chilly partnership. She knew what had transpired before Thanksgiving between the two men. She had been asked about it in the halls by several reporters who thought they were sniffing out a power play within the administration. She had squashed those theories quickly, finding personal issues a reasonable reason. Anyone looking into rumors that Josh was leaving the Bartlet White House dropped the inquiry quickly after hearing he was appointed the lead on the immigration reform attempt. That he had a lot on his mind personally due to his wife's condition was also believable and left most thinking that the flap between the two men was nothing more than lack of sleep on and expected nerves on Josh's part.

"I don't know," Carol replied. "Marcy said he had to leave for an appointment. She didn't say with who."

"With whom," Toby corrected mildly.

"She didn't say," Carol told him slowly as if he hadn't heard her initially. "It sounded like it was a last minute thing rather than part of the schedule."

**OEOB **

** 2:34 p.m. **

Donna sat at her desk and munched on the carrot sticks she had pilfered from someone on the Vice President's staff during lunch. She was supposed to have lunch with Josh that day, but Marcy called around noon to tell her that he had a last minute appointment and would not be making it. Donna did not mind missing lunch with him. She saw him often enough at home during the weeks and weekend—something she found odd but nice all the same—now that Marcy had tamed his schedule and taught him how to farm out some of his duties. The new assistant called it her "intervention for a control freak" therapy. Donna doubted it would have worked were they not expecting. She was both tickled and worried by Josh's torn nature of his devotion to his job and his desire to be with her in a non-working capacity. She looked up from her notes and was surprised to see him approaching from the long corridor that led to the alley between the two buildings.

"Sam left a while ago," she said informatively. "Did you miss your meeting or was this one all his? If it was all his, I'm very proud of you. It means you've learned to delegate and…"

She was smirking about the difficult line he was walking in this endeavor when leaned on the edge of her cube with a downcast expression. She was prepared to make light of it, suspecting CJ had gotten the better of him somehow in a meeting or Toby had managed to saddle him with an unwanted task, but there was something about his forlorn air that stopped her.

"What is it?" she asked with concern.

He had not looked well for the last several days and the painful effort it took for him to speak had concerned her. She suspected he was coming down with the killer style cold making the rounds in the White House. Colds for Josh worried her. She knew there was no greater danger for him than for anyone. Still, the knowledge that he'd had a lung collapsed by a bullet several years earlier always made her worry about any breathing or chest related aliments.

He sat down in the chair beside her desk spoke to her, the soreness of his throat coming through clearly in his hushed words.

"I went to see a doctor," he explained while looking down at his hands in a dejected fashion.

"What is it?" she asked apprehensively, feeling her heart begin to race.

"It's impossible," he shook his head.

"Josh," she said carefully, rolling her chair closer to him to take his hand and make him look at her. "What is it?"

"They want to take out my tonsils," he said sounding appalled.

Donna scoffed and tossed his hand out of hers then laughed getting rid of her nervousness. She also slapped his knee to scold him as she rolled her chair back to her desk.

"Honestly, Josh," she said shaking her head. "If you think that's a…"

"Donna, I'm seriously," he said with a half-pout. "They said they need to come out. That's what this is, this thing I have. It's my tonsils, but it can't be."

"Why not?" she asked, figuring the sound of his voice was easily explained by inflamed tonsils.

"Because I don't have tonsils," he said petulantly. "I all ready had them out. I was 11. I recall it well. It was the weekend before my birthday."

"Did you tell the doctor?" Donna asked, unconcerned.

"I did," he argued. "Know what he said?"

"You have tonsils still?"

"Yes," Josh nodded aggressively. "That's precisely what he said. They grew back. I didn't think they could do that."

"Maybe they didn't actually take them out," Donna ventured.

"They did," he argued. "I was in the hospital for three days. I threw up apple juice in my dad's car on the way home. Trust me. I remember it well. You can call my mother. I'm sure she remembers. Wait. Don't call her. This is none of her business."

Donna smirked. He was acting the same as if the Congress had overridden a Presidential veto. He was angry and stung by the news and looking for someone to blame but coming up only with himself.

"Sometimes they grow back, I guess," Donna said fighting valiantly not to laugh or patronize him too much while still enjoying herself nonetheless. "You have a very strong survival instinct. Apparently, that goes for all parts of you. I may have mentioned your determined DNA before to you."

"You're enjoying this," he seethed and stood abruptly.

"I am, but you can sit back down," she said lightly. "Stop pouting. Okay, so you have to have your tonsils out…. Again. It's not the end of the world. You'll only miss one day of work at the most. It's an outpatient procedure now, Josh. They knock you out with something like Demerol, and you go home that afternoon. It only takes an hour or so."

"How do you know?" he asked. He knew she was correct for he had been given roughly that information himself from his doctor.

"My niece had it done last year," Donna explained and watched his eyes narrow as the real problem with his condition occurred to her.

"It's a children's operation," he said angrily. "They don't do this to adults."

"Well, apparently they do," Donna smiled. "Maybe instead of a balloon or a lollypop, you can get a…"

"I'm not having it done," he said firmly then left her cubicle.

**Roosevelt Room **

**Friday, Jan. 14 **

** 8:45 a.m. **

The staff gathered in the room with a collectively dejected expression. The long holiday weekend lay ahead but reports of a colossal storm bearing down on the region had cancelled many travel plans. What nixed the rest was the Chief of Staff's last minute edict that the often ridiculed "Big Block of Cheese Day" would take place that morning. How the man found a way to keep it a secret until the previous day remained a mystery to all. With grumbles and sighs, the senior staff and senior assistants ambled into the room dreading the stack of folders rumored to be on the corner of Margaret's desk.

Donna gratefully shuffled her way into the West Wing and marveled again at how large it always looked to her in the hallways after the holidays. The trees and decorations certainly made the drab walls and commotion of the building prettier at that time, but they also made it seem more cramped. She had not been in this section of the building since the night of the Congressional Christmas party nearly a month earlier. For a moment, she stood in the hall and soaked in the constant chatter and motion of the place. She missed it on some level, but she was pleased with her current assignments that kept her quietly tucked away in the OEOB.

"On your left," Ed announced as he squeezed by Donna on hurried legs to grab a seat. "Oh, hey Donna. I didn't recognize you. I mean, long time no see. How are you feeling?"

"Large," she simply.

"Oh, uh, well," he said uncomfortably. "You look… great for the… uh… way you look. How much longer will you be… you know…"

"Shaped like a verse hour glass?" she ventured. "Best guess is April 20, but that won't help you with the bet."

"What bet?" he asked quickly. His guilt evident.

"The one someone started in the Communications Office about the due date," Donna informed him. "They did the same thing for Angelina from Legislative Affairs last summer. It's always a man who starts those things. Why is that?"

"Uh, well," he shrugged. "It's something to do."

"If I tell you what day and time to choose, will you give me the winnings?" she asked.

"Give them to you?" he replied. "All of it?"

"Why not," she said. "What part did you have in any of this?"

"I was left out of that part of the rumor mill," he said. "A few people still think Will Bailey is the father."

"Yeah, I never got that," Donna shook her head, no longer bothered by the rumor she too heard in the late fall. "I helped him research a thing for Toby then I sat up with him one night helping him figure out a way to get his girlfriend to let him apologize to her for not remembering her birthday. I'm not sure where the consummation was alleged to have occurred."

"The meeting in Toby's office makes for a nice scandal," Will Bailey offered as he joined them with a wide grin. "Good morning, Donna. How are you? How are my gestating children?"

"Fine, thank you," she replied. "Will you be paying for their college up front or should I take you to court in 16 years?"

"Sixteen?" Will asked. "They'll only be sophomores in high school."

"I think I'm supposed to say 'they're Josh's children,' and confidently insinuate that over achievement scholastically is probably going to be expected," Donna shrugged. "Of course, with that boast also comes the probability that they will also inherit his social ineptitude and his thin and questionable tack that poses as manners on occasion. I'm thinking I'll have more influence on them so I remain hopeful about their futures as a whole. Not that I have much support in that area. As a joke, Mark Reed, one of Josh's friends sent us applications for Harvard for the both of them. Can you afford two kids in Harvard in 16 years, Will?"

"I couldn't even afford to a plane ticket to Boston today," Will said. "Sorry. You'll have to just formally admit and announce to everyone that you are giving birth to Josh's offspring. It'll be disappointing at first—not nearly as salacious or tawdry and an after hours office romance with an up and coming speechwriter who doesn't even merit his own cubicle in the OEOB yet—but I'm sure someone else will replace you on the scandal vine soon enough."

"Then everyone in this building except Josh will forget about me entirely," she said as she waved to other staffers who greeted her with surprise at seeing her back in the West Wing after her nearly two month absence. "I was glad to get Leo's message yesterday telling me about today; Margaret said she almost forgot to include me."

"No one is that lucky," Ed groaned.

"It isn't so bad," Donna said joyfully. "I like this."

"You like this?" he asked. "Crackpot Day?"

"Don't call it that," she warned.

"I was told Josh does," Will stated. "Sam told me that he coined the name your first year in office, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but I don't think he said it out loud in Leo's presence in the actual meeting until the second time we were forced to do this," Ed shook his head. "Early on we had hopes he could talk Leo into canceling the whole thing."

"He's good, but he's not that persuasive," Donna shook her head.

"Really, then what's your excuse?" Ed asked with a wide grin as he looked her up and down and shook his head. "Donna, we all thought you were smarter than this."

Staffers continued to file in and finally Leo appeared and stood at the head of the table, talking briefly to Margaret who clutched a stack of folders to her chest. When they parted, Leo looked up with a stern gaze that caused the room to fall silent. He nodded his brief thanks and began to speak.

"Andrew Jackson in the...," he began but was halted in his discourse as the rest of the room spontaneously piped in cheerfully if derisively.

"…main foyer of the White House, had this block of cheese," the ensemble echoed, falling into synch after the third or fourth word. "Two tons this block of cheese was..."

Josh entered to this cacophony with Marcie in tow scribbling notes furiously as he gave her orders for the day.

"No way," Josh scoffed as loudly as possible with his razer thin voice once there was a pause in the speech. "You can make us take the asinine meetings, but isn't making us give that speech back to you asking a bit much?"

"I'm blaming you," Leo informed him as he cuffed him on the back of the head as Josh passed.

"I had nothing to do with it," he said, lying convincingly to at least half the room as he rubbed the spot where he had been struck.

"Even if I believed that, my fall back position is that you were in the room and that's enough for me this morning," Leo said in a matter-of-fact fashion.

"That bad?" Josh croaked.

"Ask me at lunch," Leo replied. "Now, if you're all finished with your fun, I'd like to get this started."

"Hey, we just like to keep you entertained, Leo," Josh offered leaning against the wall.

"Do I look entertained?" Leo asked. "By the way, you look like hell still."

"And you look like a gangster," Josh remarked dryly gesturing to the dark, double-breasted pinstriped suit the man wore; the commented elicited several laughs around the room and a resigned shake of the head from the man himself. "Very godfather-esque."

"First, you have them mock my speech and now you're a fashion critic," Leo said. "You're just asking for two assignments today, aren't you, Josh?"

"Hey, some people are flattered when others remember their words," Josh argued amicably as he keep the grimace off his face following a stabbing and painful swallow.

"Do I appear to be flattered?" Leo asked and quickly cut off any further responses from his deputy. "You want to continue this or can I get on with my day?"

Josh said nothing further. His voice had had it for the morning, he knew. Which for once was not going to be a detriment. His schedule was empty for the day with Congress gone for the holiday weekend and the rest of the city closing down for the storm. He was hoping to use the day to go over the immigration proposals that landed on his desk the previous afternoon. He was in a good mood and saw no reason to let Leo's idea of democracy outreach ruin that. He relaxed as he swept the room with his eyes then spied his wife sitting across the room looking tired but eager to be there.

He forced his eyes to trail back to Leo thinking it inappropriate to be caught with his gaze lingering on her. He wasn't entirely pleased to see her. If everyone had to be punished with Leo's pointless meetings, Josh could do little about it. But he did not see why Donna had to be subjected to it now that she was technically on special projects only. While he knew she would likely be the only person in the room who would enjoy her assignment from the start, he was bothered that she had made the trek over to the West Wing at all. At the very least, she should have been spared the exertion and could have had her folder delivered to her desk. He made a point to see that her meeting, whatever it was, would take place early and in her area rather than forcing her to make the journey back to the West Wing again later in the day. With the weather looking dangerous on all the maps, he would prefer that she be home before the roads got too sloppy or the storm too fierce.

"Since you all seem to know what I'm going to say, that tells me you must be eager to receive your orders for the day," Leo announced. "I do enjoy time with people so enthusiastic to do their work. Margaret!"

She stepped up from behind him abruptly with her folders at the ready.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Leo asked.

"Maybe she really wants to hear the rest of the speech," Josh offered hoarsely with a smirk that started the chuckling in the room again.

"Hit him when you get over there," Leo directed her.

Margaret nodded then began handing out the folders. In turn, each staffer rolled his or her eyes or groaned or guffawed at their day's purpose. From the reaction, it was evidence Margaret had again done random assignment rather than steering particular issues to the most appropriate parties. As directed, when she arrived in Josh's area, she slapped him on the shoulder with a file but did not hand him one. She turned to Leo and received his nod of thanks. Before she was able to move on, Josh spoke to her briefly and received a nod of his own in return. Margaret then moved on to the rest of the room.

The staff began looking over their synopsis memos and comparing assignments as the folders made their way around the room.

Sam sported a quizzical look as he read his paperwork.

"Uh, Leo, there's a problem here," Sam announced. "My assignment is not a group we don't have contact with. In fact, it's not a group at all. It's the name of legislation passed about 10 years ago."

"What?" Leo asked.

"It says VAWA here," Sam said, holding up his memo to prove his point. "How is it we don't talk to..."

"It's not that VAWA," Margaret explained. "That is the Venice Amateur Wine Makers Association. They want us to change the name of the Violence Against Women's Act so that they can have VAWA all to themselves. They claim they had it first."

"That's not fair," Toby grumbled.

"Well, I don't think that Senator Wellstone really considered the name of this group when he…," Sam began.

"No, I meant that you get that assignment," Toby said. "Do you see what I have?"

"Whatever you got it can't be as bad as this," CJ moaned. "I get the sperm whale. Someone wants to make the Sperm Whale the national mammal?"

"So Sam gets drunk and CJ gets…," Josh began.

Josh generally had greater latitude with Leo in these settings and today was no different. In fact, Leo was pleased to have the "content wiseass" part of the man's personality back in full swing. He had not enjoyed the days of stony silence that followed their cold war in the late fall. However, there was only so much of this Leo was willing to take on a Friday morning.

"I'm cutting you off right there and ruling that you don't get to speak for the rest of the day when I'm in the room," Leo informed him.

"At all?"

"Sounds like you're speaking again and yet I'm still here," Leo informed him.

"Gotcha," Josh nodded, taking the hint that play time was over.

"And again with the words," Leo said, getting his mirth. "I can fire you."

Josh, anticipating this comment, had begun scribbling on the blank page in the folder in his hands. He grinned quickly as he held up his scrawl. It read boldly: _**WOULD IT GET ME OUT OF TOTAL CRACKPOT DAY?**_ The collective chuckle that over took the room filled the space for a moment. Josh shrugged and silently declared a truce with Leo knowing that he was expected to serve as an example at least part of the time.

"Don't encourage him," Leo growled though his own grin was hiding just beneath the surface. "Now, I know that you all have plans for the weekend and some of you were hoping to get out of here early. For that reason, I had Margaret take the liberty to make a few phone calls. National expects to close by noon and Dulles will only be taking incoming overseas flights by that point. From your carefree expressions, I'm guessing several of you just found your afternoons very open."

The grumbling and groaning in the room dissolved into more complaining and sharing of assignments.

"Oh, I like mine," Donna said. Her voice being the only one with any positive tones, it stuck out in the chatter.

"Thank you, Donna," Leo said. "See, optimism doesn't cost you anything today, people."

"What did you get?" CJ asked, wondering if perhaps they could trade.

"It's a group called Reinvent the Wheel," she said reading from her packet. "It's a group of people want the president to declare that everyone ride a bike or walk to work at least one day a year, to cut the pollution."

"Are they handing out Kevlar vests?" Toby remarked. "Because my neighborhood in Brooklyn is not the place to walk or ride without protection."

"And what did Mr. Congeniality get that has him so grumpy?" Sam asked, peering over Toby's folder then smirking. "Oh my. Well, yes, I see that you have a…. Oh my. I guess the people in Brooklyn aren't the only ones needing bullet proof vests. Do you think they'll be dressed in costumes?"

"What did he…?" CJ began then loosed a loud cackle as she read over his shoulder. "The Lost Civil War Society? They want what?"

"Recognition of any one of four battles as holidays that seem to fallen off the historical radar, if they ever happened at all," Toby announced aggressively. "And yes, they are re-enactors! Leo, just tell me, will there be a camera on me during this? Am I going to see this on an anniversary edition of Candid Camera?"

"I'm sure they'll have to leave the weapons with the guards," CJ chuckled. "Even if they're not loaded, they do have bayonets."

"Maybe they'll ask you to join," Charlie suggested as he stepped into the room to hand Leo a message from the President. "I think you look like a Colonel."

"Thank you, Charlie," Toby said without an ounce of gratitude in his voice as he tossed his folder on the table in disgust.

"Are they Southern sympathizers or Union men?" Josh asked across the room in a calculated tone.

The room fell silent as Toby blanched momentarily at the prospect then contemplated the possibility as he scanned his briefing notes quickly.

"It doesn't say," he replied tightly. "Why are you smirking? What the hell did you get?"

"Oddly, nothing," Josh smiled and said as loudly as possible with his restrictions. "Apparently, it's been decided that my talents are better used on more…"

"Margaret, give him Larry's," Leo said, dissecting the room and seeing the man's face absent. "And remind him about the speaking rule thing again."

"What about Larry?" Josh asked though most of the words did not have any sound other than a squeak or rasp.

"He's not in today," Margaret said helpfully as she approached him with the folder in her outstretched hand.

Josh stepped back and refused to physically touch the file.

"Josh, it's not a subpoena," Leo said. "Whether you accept it or not, it's yours."

He was about to object further when Margaret hit him with the file (receiving another approving nod from Leo in the process) then handed the pages to the Deputy Chief of Staff.

"Can I start my own group?" Josh asked with great effort. "It's the Don't Hit Josh Group."

"Are you a not for profit?" Toby asked.

"I'm about not being hit any more," Josh scribbled on his notepad and held up the result as he scowled. "Seriously, the _Don't Hit Josh_ group is on the list for next time. Someone write that down."

He offered a rueful shake of the head stating that he suspected there was more suspicion than serendipity in Larry's absence. Margaret listened briefly then walked away. Donna watched the exchange and held her face as close to neutral as she could. Her husband's antics in meetings always left her mystified. How could someone so smart and so serious behave in such a juvenile fashion? Yet she knew as well as anyone that it was when he was not misbehaving a little that things were amiss in his world. His back chat with Leo and his goading of Toby were pleasant signs that he was in a good mood and much was right with his world. She caught his eye for a moment and smiled briefly before returning to her reading so as not to be too overt in her admiration of him. As she did, she could again hear the sounds of those around her grumbling about their schedules for the day. Leo, too, heard the prattle and did his best to dispel it quickly.

"When will you all learn that this is one of the perks to working in this building," Leo said. "This is your chance to reach out and meet members of the public who you would not normally have any contact with and whose ideas would be kept from you."

"Usually with good reason," Sam remarked and earned a hard, flat glare from the Chief of Staff in admonishment.

"And yours," Margaret said, picking Leo's folder up off the table and handing it to him with a defiant grin.

He placed his glasses on his nose and quickly scanned this memo. He then scowled.

"I have the duck?" Leo asked, looking at Margaret over his glasses in surprise.

"Trade you the duck for the sperm whale," CJ offered, holding her folder in the air tantalizingly.

"One good duck deserves a…," Josh began, again finding some vestige of his voice.

"I'm not hearing your voice again, am I?" Leo warned.

"It's not a duck," Margaret said.

"It says AFLAC," Leo pointed out.

"Which stands for the American Floral Lovers Ambassadors Congress," Margaret said pointing to the next paragraph. "You have to read all of it, Leo."

"Who are they, and what do they want?" Leo asked testily.

"They are passionate voices from the fabric of our democracy and they want a moment of your time," Toby said helpfully, enjoying the irony of the moment to its fullest. "While I'm meeting with Robert E. Lee's great, great, great grand nephew, I shall take heart knowing you're spending your afternoon with the FTD flower guy. Margaret, I owe you dinner. Say the word and I'm buying."

"Okay, can I just take this moment to say I think it's mildly offensive I have to talk about sperm whales?" CJ announced.

"No," Leo shook his head.

"Well, Leo, she actually can," Sam chimed in helpfully. "CJ, you just need to know that none of us really care."

"I hope you get drunk and fall down," she replied.

"I'd like to see that," Toby offered.

"I did have a point here if anyone wants to listen," Leo called out to the room.

"I thought we covered that already with the take this seriously or I'll fire Josh part," CJ said, grinning at the Deputy Chief as she taunted him.

"Hanging curve ball, Josh," Leo warned him as he spied the man open his mouth with a ready retort. "Don't go for the bait; besides, I don't think you've got anything left on those vocal cords. And with that, all right then people: go."

The meeting broke up as Leo barked one more admonishment to them all to take the tasks seriously then sent them on their way. Josh spoke briefly with Leo regarding true matters of State as the room cleared. As the Chief of Staff departed, Josh hung back as Donna finally got out of her chair. She found it easier to maneuver in less cramped spaces lately and being the last to leave a crowded meeting seemed the best course. She was not surprised Josh waited for her to do so but chose not to mention this to him.

"You didn't have to come all the way over here for this," he said in a whispered tone, holding the door open for her as she left the room.

"I had to get my assignment," she informed him then swatted him lightly with her folder. "That's for talking when you shouldn't and not behaving in general."

"Hey, the Don't Hit Josh Group, remember?" he said vehemently and hoarsely. "I've made you a charter a member."

"Why?"

"Because I said," he replied walking at her slowed pace as they traversed the hall back toward the exit leading to the alley to the OEOB.

"And if I quit what happens?" she asked playfully. "You're going to hit me back?"

"I was given permission to kick the First Lady once," he informed her.

"What did you tell Margaret?" Donna asked noting that he appeared to be escorting her to the other building. "When she handed me my package, she said that said she was changing my meeting because you said to. I want my meeting, Josh."

"You're the only one," he remarked as they stepped outside.

They could have avoided the trip outside by descending to the lower levels of the building and using the underground hallways that connected the two buildings, but Donna was not a fan of stairs and avoided them when possible lately.

"I told you, I'm fine," Donna reminded him. "You're the one who is sick."

"And you're entitled to that opinion," he replied.

"Josh."

"I just said she should make sure your meeting took place in the OEOB, and it should be done as early as possible today," he said. "Just a scheduling thing. They'll be here in an hour or so. And I'm fine."

She refrained from arguing with him. He had become more adamant in recent days about her taking things easier and slower. She suspected that it was due more to his own sensitivity than her health, which she assured him daily was fine. He had sported a horrified look two weeks earlier when he saw deep and ragged stretch marks on her abdomen as she got dressed on Sunday morning. He was usually out of the house before she was out of the shower lately, but that weekend morning, he had been lazy and remained home with her. He denied that he had "freaked" upon seeing the red lines in her skin, but she had seen him go a faint shade of green. She had considered teasing him about being able to make it through the delivery without passing out but decided that was a pleasure she would savor in the latter weeks of the pregnancy when she was certain she would need an emotional and mental boost.

"Okay, but for the record, I am fine, too," she said, as he opened the door to the executive office building and continued with her around the corner to her temporary desk area. "The difference between you and I right now is that my doctor agrees with me."

"Whatever," he agreed. "Just doing my part to see that you stay that way."

"And I can drive in the snow," she said taking her seat and fixing him with an accusing though not angry stare.

"It's the other driver's that concern me," he said. "You should head home by lunch time."

"I have work to do," she disagreed.

"You can do it from home," he said.

"You can't play favorites," she told him.

"I can do whatever I want," he countered. "Donna, seriously, I'm going to try to get out of here by 3. The city is shutting down. They're going to want people off the roads unless it's for emergencies. I'll feel better knowing you're home safe before the rest of the lunatics hit the road decide to start the holiday weekend. Okay?"

"You're cute when you worry," she said before she signed into her computer. "Oh, and you have an appointment for next Friday to have your little ailment fixed. Don't glare at me. Josh, you need to have them out and you're going to do it. I scheduled you for a Friday morning. You'll be back at work by Monday like it never happened. And before you try to cancel it, I called your mother. She'll be calling Friday afternoon for a full report on how the procedure went."

"Donna," he said though his scolding sounded anexoric at best with the inflammation in his throat making volume nearly impossible.

"I've been telling our babies what a brave man you are for doing this," she in a patronizing way.

"You spend the evening talking to your navel," Josh said. "It doesn't mean they can hear you."

"Their ears on the outside of their heads now," Donna replied informatively. "If you read the flash cards I've made you, you'd know that."

"They're on the outside now?" he questioned looking queasy at the mental picture it conjured. "Where were they before?"

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx **

**Chief of Staff's Office **

** 4:27 p.m. **

Josh rapped smartly on the door frame as he entered. The snow outside nearly obliterated the

"Is the gag rule lifted?" Josh asked quietly.

"I wake up every day with two thoughts," Leo said. "What's gonna happen that I didn't foresee and what are you going to do today that makes me question why I hired you in the first place?'

"I think you should be encouraged that those are separate questions," Josh nodded taking a seat opposite the man.

"Oddly, I'm more encouraged when at the end of the day the answer to the second one is because of what you did to fix the first one," Leo said offering a scant grin.

"I try my best, sir," Josh replied though his voice nearly squeaked under the strain.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Leo asked shaking his head. "This has been going on for two weeks."

"Laryngitis," he said evasively. "I saw a doctor."

"Yeah?" Leo asked.

"Yeah," Josh nodded and added strategically. "He said it should be fine in another week. It's not a big deal; don't worry about it."

"All right," Leo said accepting the explanation. "Margaret said you had a good meeting today."

"Good?" Josh shrugged. "If I say yes, does that mean I've given tacit acquiescence to this periodic torture you put us all through?"

"A yes or no would have sufficed there, Josh," Leo informed him then changed the subject as he spied the folders in the man's hand. "What do you have?"

"A long list of objections to amnesty," Josh replied, referring to the latest result of the immigration legislation propositions. "I took a few meetings earlier this week on the Hill with what we expected to be areas of support."

"Sam go with you?" Leo asked.

"No," Josh said. "I mean, yeah, he took meetings, too. We split them. We didn't see any reason to double team anyone yet."

Leo nodded. The question had not been precisely to check on whether or not the two men were doing as the President asked and playing nicely together. It was more of a temperature gauge for the climate on the Hill. If two of the White House's top guns were needed to meet with so-called "friends" this early in the process, the horizon would not be bright.

"Okay," Leo said. "Just curiously, how is that other thing going?"

Josh looked at the man and realized he had no answer for him. The work he and Sam did was so far keeping them apart other than a few strategy sessions over who would be speaking to whom and when then several memos written to document the conversations and keep each other in the loop. They had not needed to spend any solid blocks of time together one-on-one. Josh was not even sure that would be necessary as by the time such intense meetings and discussions were needed, there would be a host of people needed in those meetings. Over all, Josh was optimistic about how the duo would function.

"Fine," he said simply.

"You ever going to forgive him?" Leo asked bluntly.

"Any reason I have to?"

"No," Leo shook his head. "It's your choice. It's a dumb one, if you ask me. Your father loved a good argument, but you get your stubbornness, pigheadedness from your mother."

"I think she'd say differently," Josh offered.

"Of course she would," Leo remarked as he sat forward. "That's what proves my point."

"Also, I think that he would have preferred that you describe her as _adamant_," Josh recalled fondly.

"True enough," Leo nodded as he pulled open a drawer in his desk. "Hey, speaking of your father and your mother: I have something for you."

Leo pulled the old photo out of the drawer and handed it across to his deputy. It was the picture handed to Leo by Anna Lyman nearly two years earlier in New Hampshire during the primary. It had been tucked into the pocket of the coat Leo wore that day and was later appropriated by Mallory for a school play then became lost for a long period at a drycleaner's. The jacket never managed to get cleaned and somehow the photo remained in place.

"Where did you find this?" Josh marveled as he looked at the image.

He saw himself at a very young age and the two men who meant more to him than any others on the planet: his father and Leo. They were locked in a discussion about something and Josh was between them, looking up with wide and fascinated eyes. He did not remember the day it was taken. In fact, he had very little memory of Leo at all before he began to turn his attention to politics while in college. Even after that, his contact with Leo did not commence until after he was in Washington for several years and was made Earl Brennan's Chief of Staff.

As Josh internally reminisced about the photo and his own political career, Leo explained how the picture came into his possession. He also asked Josh to extend apologies to his mother the next time they spoke for the delay in delivering it in a more timely fashion.

"_When_ I speak to her?" Josh remarked. "I'll tell Donna. She's mom's preferred family member. I don't even get email any more."

"That's because you never tell her anything," Leo said, then rolled his eyes. "I do get email from her, Josh. You know that I say this with all due respect: The woman is a menace. I'm considering hiring her here to annoy the House Majority Leader for my pleasure when she moves north."

"I'd say that was cruel, but I'd pay to see Mr. Don't-Mess-with-the-Rednecks-of-Texas tangle with her," Josh smirked. "But I doubt she'll have time for your torture plans. She's already referring to them as her babies."

Leo grinned. The woman was predictable. Since her son would no longer let her mother in to the point of aggravation, she was going to shift her attention to the only beings who could likely handle that level of constant attention: her grandchildren. He envied her on some level. Not that he was ready for Mallory to settle into a permanent relationship—he was unimpressed with all of her recent choices in men—but he did look forward to the day when he would hear the name "Grandpa" spoken to him.

"You should go home," Leo told him.

"I'm fine," Josh argued.

"You're not, but still," Leo said.

"Leo, I've still got four more…," Josh began but was cut off.

"Leave it," Leo said confidently. "Its hell out there, and Donna is probably sitting in the front window watching for your car."

"Donna is probably sleeping on the couch without a care of whether I am home or not," Josh said. "Trust me, Leo. If she was concerned, I'd have had a call. She wasn't happy when I sent her home just after lunch, and she's probably still mad at me for it. Come to think of it, I'll be the one probably sleeping on the couch tonight."

"I'm sure you've done something to earn it previously," Leo nodded. "Besides, I don't believe your laryngitis lie so take your disease out of here before the rest of us come down with it."

"It's not like that," Josh argued.

"Like I care," Leo shook his head. "Go home."

"All right," Josh relented. "Tomorrow we'll go over the…"

"Yeah," Leo said. "Save your voice for the morning."

"When are you heading out?" Josh asked, pausing in the doorway.

"I'll wait a bit," Leo told him. "The President wants to talk about a NASA thing."

"Is this about the moon thing or the Mars one?" Josh asked, painfully recalling several lengthy "informative" conversations in the Oval in recent days.

"With my luck, probably both," Leo sighed as he stood and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. "It's gonna take you an hour—at least—to get home."

"Leo, I know how to drive in the snow," Josh scoffed.

"You live in DC, Josh," Leo reminded him. "No one here knows how to drive in the snow."

"I grew up in New England," he said. "I lived and drove in Boston for four years and spent three more in New Haven."

"And you left there, and you've lived here pretty much ever since," Leo said firmly. "I'm saying the roads are snow covered, and there's ice, plus there's just about zero visibility so take your time."

"Are you imitating my mother or have you begun channeling my father?" Josh asked.

"In a moment of weakness, I promised Noah during the early primaries in 1998 that I'd look out for you," Leo said. "And I know for a fact, based on case law, that a verbal contract with your father was a serious thing. I wouldn't put it past him to nail me for breach even this many years after he passed on."

Josh smirked at the compliment then nodded. He looked at the photo in his hands again.

"Go home," Leo commanded.

"Thank you, sir," Josh said.

Josh did as he was instructed, eventually. He had considered leaving an hour earlier, but the stolen moments of peace in the office were too rare of a find to pass up. He finished reading several reports that were looming in his inbox and responded to at least a dozen emails. He also made arrangements to clear anything scheduled for the following Friday off his calendar. He would come up with a believable excuse later in the week, he knew. He also knew he was stalling, in part. It was not that he didn't want to go home. He was actually looking forward to the long weekend—meaning not work until late Saturday morning and none at all on Sunday. Still, his meeting earlier in the day had him feeling slightly off his heels. He spent a little more time at the office writing a brief to pass off to the First Lady's staff about his cheese day meeting before he trekked out into the blizzard.

It was, as Leo predicted, not an easy or speedy travel homeward. And the man was wrong about the time it took. An hour would have been a blessing. It took nearly 30 minutes to dig the car out sufficiently and another hour to creep homeward through the snow clogged streets. Once he arrived, he was grateful to see Donna's car, askew, in the garage. He entered the house glad to be out of the sharp winds and unrelenting precipitation.

"I thought you were leaving at three," she said, meeting him in the hallway. "It's almost 8; I was getting worried."

"I left just after six," he said, shaking snow out of his hair. "It is nasty out there. It doesn't snow like this in Washington. Ever."

"Well, you've heard the saying when hell freezes over?"

"So it got cold in Texas, too?" he remarked.

"I had dinner a while ago," she said ignoring the comment as she walked to the kitchen. "It was frozen lasagna. There are leftovers. You interested?"

"Not right now," he said stretching his shoulders and neck.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" she said without sympathy.

"No," he lied, popping another of Marcy's numbing lozenges into his mouth. He was fairly certain he had burned all the taste buds off his tongue permanently from his constant usage of the vile tasting anesthetic candies. "You know, I think I would have gotten here sooner if I walked."

"Did Marcy get out early?"

"She's staying with friends in Rosslyn," he said. "The Metro's fine. She left her car at the office."

"Who else was still there?"

"CJ and Toby got tied up with something about the storm," Josh replied. "They were going to head out together as soon as Toby finished with whatever. Leo was in the residence suffering at the hands of the President and his fascination with NASA's latest missions so he probably won't be able leave."

"Did Charlie get out?" Donna asked. "He had trouble with his car this morning."

"President kicked him out around 3 as well, but that might be in part because Zoey was needling him about having a sleep over in the residence—I mean all of them on the floor like camping out in the living room," Josh reported. "That kid can be a terror when she wants to."

"I like her spunk," Donna said.

"She gets the President wound up about camping and I have to listen to an hour-long discourse on the trees found around certain streams in Franconia Notch where he used to go camping while we wait for Leo to finish apologizing to his flower children," Josh shook his head.

"His what?"

"His meeting," Josh said. "He made some crack to them about gardening and bombs. I'm not really clear on it, but Margaret's going to smoothed things over, I guess. Is it cold in here?"

"No, it's probably just you," she said as she headed toward the living room. "I…"

The house suddenly plunged into silence and darkness. Donna froze in place then turned back to look for any sign that there was electricity in the house. The clocks on the stove and microwave were blank and the flashing light usually visible on the alarm system near the door was also darkened.

"The power's out," Josh said unnecessarily.

"What was your first clue?" Donna asked as she heard him approach her.

"Well, it got dark," he said. "Flashlights?"

"Top shelf on the refrigerator door, inside," she directed.

"Why there?"

"Keeps the batteries fresher and its one place that' easy to find in the dark," she said.

"The light will still be off in there," he said, moving back to the kitchen.

"It's a small shelf," she said. "I don't need light to locate what's in it."

A moment later, a beam of light shone on the floor. Josh returned and handed one flashlight to her and kept a second for himself. He said he was going to check the fuse box in the basement to be certain that it wasn't just the house that was out rather than the whole area. Donna nodded and made her way to the living room. She looked out the front windows and saw every house on the street was cloaked in blackness. When Josh returned several minutes later, complaining of cobwebs and wondering if it was possible that there were more boxes in the basement that they had yet to unpack from their move, she informed him of what he already knew. The power outage was rather wide spread.

She retrieved candles and placed several on the mantel and coffee table to give them some light and then convinced Josh that a fire would be beneficial for both light and warmth. They had only used the fireplace twice since moving into the house and Donna was glad for the opportunity to do so again. It was one of the features she loved most about their home. With cozy thoughts in mind, she went to the kitchen and returned with items to make the setting complete.

"Marshmallows," she said expectantly as she returned to see the flames just starting to take.

"I don't like marshmallows," he said with a curled lip as he cautiously eyed the skewers she held up triumphantly.

"Good, more for me," she said, dropping her snack on the coffee table and pulling the blankets off the couch and turning the cushions onto the floor.

"What are you doing?"

"We're camping out by the fire," she said.

"We have furniture," he said gesturing to the various pieces.

"You have no imagination," she said. "Now, help me get down on the floor."

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he obliged her. She lowered herself to the floor and made herself comfortable propped up on the cushions and arranged the blankets before patting the spot next to her gently as an invitation that he should join her. He shook his head but did so without complaint.

"So, tell me about your day," she said grandly nestling her back against his chest while she set about toasting her marshmallow. "You need to take Tylenol next time you get up. You have a fever again."

"I'm fine," he said plainly. "Did you save the world with your meeting?"

"I know it's not feasible idea for everyone, obviously, but they have a good point," Donna replied. "Do you know how many cubic feet of green house gases could be eliminated if everyone just took one day and didn't drive their car at all?"

"No," he said honestly. "And neither do they. Those are unproven estimates, Donna."

"I know, but obviously, it would make a difference," she said. "I think their idea has some merit."

"Just answer me this: You didn't reverse our position on the Industrial Age, did you?" he asked leaning his chin on her shoulder.

"No," she said, leaning her head against his. "I told them that we had a comprehensive energy package that was going to the Hill this spring and would look to further reduce our dependence on fossil fuels but that we were going to face stiff opposition in the… Ow. Move to the right."

She made the last comments so abruptly that Josh sat up straight and looked at her with great suspicion as she jerked away from him.

"What did I do?" he asked defensively.

"Not you," she said shifting her position and rubbing her side as a pained expression contorted the muscles of her face as she spoke to her abdomen calmly yet firm. "Someone needs to get his or her foot or elbow or knee off Mommy's rib and stop pushing on it."

"Are you serious?" he asked gaping at her.

"Yes, I am," she said relaxing slightly when the pain subsided as the stretching maneuver was apparently complete. "It's better now."

"No, it's not," he said.

"Josh, I'm fine," she assured him.

"You just told one of my kids to move to the right," he insisted. "That's not okay. We never order anyone in this family to…"

"Oh dear god," Donna sighed and shook her head. "You aren't seriously going to do this."

"Your freaky little conservative leanings are entertaining and at times helpful," Josh began. "But I'm going to draw the line at…"

"Stop," she said quickly, covering his mouth with her hand. "You're going to try to be funny, and I have at least one foot placed precariously close to my ribs, which means there is likely an or two elbow near my kidneys and someone's head might be using my bladder as a pillow. If I so much as giggle, I'll wet my pants. Stop."

"I am serious," he said petulantly. "Sort of serious. You start ordering them to move to the right now and…"

"I'm making a list of things you're not allowed to discuss with them until their in high school," she said. "Or maybe in college—whenever they resent us more."

"Resent us?"

"That teenage thing when you think your parents are nuts and don't understand you," Donna said.

"Never had it," he replied.

"Right, and I'm the freak," she said, settling back against him. "How was your cheese meeting? What was it, anyway?"

Josh sighed. He had spent the first part of his day dreading this meeting. He spent the second part trying to forget it, at least part of it. His, or rather Larry's, meeting was with an organization that brought art programs into hospital wards with children. Therapeutic art, they called it. They didn't want money, per se. They were kept afloat by donations in the areas where the hospitals were located. They wanted the art work from the children to be hung in the White House, Congress and National Galleries. In other circumstances, Josh would have made a joke about their not being enough room or refrigerators to do the showing properly, but he could not quip with the presenter. He explained why to Donna.

"She was a kid," he said. "She was 13."

"She wasn't one of the… artists," Donna asked hesitantly.

"She was," Josh explained. "She's no longer receiving treatment. They can't do any more radiation treatments on her and her doctors said the chemo won't work any longer either. So she's probably not…"

"Oh god," Donna sighed then turned with great difficulty to hug him, but didn't as he did not seem to need comfort just yet. "Why did Leo give you that?"

"Margaret did," Josh said. "It was just a fluke. You know she doesn't really assign anything to any one person. It wasn't so bad. She was a good kid. She changed her name to Jasmine last year—with her parents' permission—because she said she planned on doing it when she was 18 anyway."

"She's not going to make it, is she?" Donna asked with a shudder.

"Probably not," Josh said. "It's a brain tumor. They can't operate and they can't shrink it or kill it. I got to tell you, she was brilliant. I don't mean that she could ace the SATs or anything, but the way her mind works…. She's very wise for someone so young. The President was impressed by her, too."

"You took her to meet the President?" Donna asked.

Josh nodded. Any other day and it would have been impossible, but with the schedule virtually empty and Charlie nearby and looking for a way to get out of the President's continuing discussion on trees and the moon project, it was a last minute appointment made with ease.

"I mean, she asked if she could just see him sitting at his desk," Josh said. "She didn't want any of his time, but she just wanted to see what it looked like to see a president at work, in person. She told me that she dreamed of seeing that ever since she realized she would be old enough to vote for one."

Josh was the one who ended up offering comfort rather than receiving it. Donna's face was aghast with the story. He had considered not telling her any of it for fear she would be overly emotional about it. Still, despite the inevitable end for his presenter that day, Josh felt fortunate to have sat with her and listened to her story.

"When we got there, he was just finishing up with the Secretary Manning," Josh said. "Charlie had briefed the President about her. So we show up President Bartlet makes this grand speech, very loudly so we can hear it from the doorway, about having other matters of state and that the Secretary of the Interior needs to go do a survey of the bridges over the Potomac or something. You know, one of his special little impromptu speeches."

"It was lame?" Donna ventured.

"Embarrassingly," Josh shook his head as he agreed. "Even Jasmine knew it was, but she thought it was funny anyway or maybe she was laughing because she figured out the President is a nerd. Anyway, he invited her and her father in; he talked to them about their organization and agreed to show some pictures from around the US in the lobbies around the Fourth of July. The First Lady's people are going to do a nation wide conference and awareness thing. They're working on it next week."

"That's great," Donna beamed as she sniffled and wiped the mist from her eyes.

"No, great was the look on the kid's face when the President told her to sit in his chair," Josh recalled. "I don't think I've ever seen someone smile that way."

"President Bartlet?"

"No, the girl," Josh said, feeling his throat get dry and tight for a second and knew it had nothing to do with tonsils. "You wouldn't think someone who knew she was dying could smile like… He made her blush even. Anyway, after a few minutes, they were done. Then when she was getting ready to leave, she gave me her picture, one she had painted. It's of the Cherry Blossoms in the spring. She'd only seen pictures before and she's never really taken and art class, but it's pretty good."

"She wanted to hang it the White House?"

"No, she said it was for me," Josh replied softly. "She was going to give it to me to give to the President, but after meeting him… She was really taken with him, but she said she wanted me to have it."

"She really did think he was a geek, didn't she," Donna remarked, careful to hold in her giggle as the arms and legs within her were still putting pressure on vital areas.

"No and that's the part where I didn't know what to say," Josh stated. "She said DaVinci gets credit of the Sistine Chapel--I know, Michelangelo actually painted it, but I didn't have the heart to correct her. Anyway, her point was that no one knows who held the ladder for him."

"I don't understand," Donna shook her head.

"Her theory is that without that guy holding the ladder for the master, there would be no masterpiece," Josh reported. "She said everyone knows the President, but not everyone knows all the people who let him... do what he does. She wanted me to have it as a thank you for being someone who holds the ladder. She wants me to hang it in my office, some place that I can see it when I'm at my desk so that I can think on good days that a good job is only just a beginning because there is also something more to come and on bad days to remember that the flowers will still back in the spring."

Donna sighed then stroked his cheek and sniffled slightly before settling in again to huddle close to him. She could think of nothing to say or ask. Sitting quietly, encircled in his arms as they watched the light case by the flames dance in the fireplace seemed most appropriate. It didn't seem possible to her that just a year earlier she was returning to Washington following her father's funeral. She was unsure of her future then; she didn't know where she wanted to be in a year or where she might be. Thinking back, she knew she would never have imagined her life could be this complete or content. A job that challenged her and was important, a house she was still in awe of, a husband she adored beyond measure and a complete family just months away from joining all of this. It was just about perfect.

She wasn't sure when she dozed off, but the abrupt banging on the front door startled her and made her jump. The fire was still burning though the flames were smaller. She also had a blanket draped over her that had not been there a moment earlier. She was prepared to ask Josh if he heard the noise too when he scrambled to his feet.

"I know you're in there," Toby's voice carried into the room as the hammering on the door sounded again. "Open the damn door."

"We're freezing," CJ's voice added.

Josh arrived at the front door, flashlight in hand, and opened the door. He shone the light in Toby's face.

"What the hell are you doing?" Josh asked as Toby batted the light out of his eyes then trooped into the foyer.

CJ followed with her frozen hands kept hands sunk into the pockets of her overcoat.

"Can we come in?" CJ asked unnecessarily.

"No," Josh replied sarcastically as he closed the storm behind them and relocked the door. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm answering you not because I can actually hear you but because you're questioning is predictable: We got stuck at the office," Toby said testily. "I couldn't find my car."

"No one stole that piece of…," Josh began.

"That's what I told him," CJ interjected as she shook the melting snow from her hair. "So I said I'd give him a ride."

"You don't live out here," Josh told her.

"Really?" she asked aggressively. "The roads are closed everywhere so we were just following a plow until we could find a major intersection to head back in my direction, but someone started in with me and we got sidetracked."

"Magellan here doesn't know the layout of the District yet," Toby complained. "You've lived here how many years and still you don't know how to get around the quadrants?"

"That doesn't explain why you're here," Josh continued.

"We were driving," Toby said.

"I was driving, you were being critical and arguing," CJ accused him.

"Then someone put her car in a snow bank about four blocks from here," Toby said. "There's no way to get it out, and we weren't going to find a tow truck to come out tonight. So we settled on here."

Donna plodded down the hall having heard the familiar voices.

"Are you both all right?" she asked. "We have a fire going. Come in and get warm.

"If it was legal, I'd consider marrying you," Toby shivered.

They followed Donna back to the living room and raced toward the fire, tossing off their wet coats and discarding their shoes quickly was well. Donna retrieved extra blankets from the closet and offered them her marshmallow. Her offer was declined.

"I'd offer you coffee or hot chocolate, but we don't have any in the house," Donna explained. "Just the thought of them makes me sick still. I guess that means I'm not a very good hostess."

"I'd prefer brandy, but I don't think you're that civilized either," Toby said.

"Actually, there's some in the cabinet over there," Donna said pointing to it. "Help yourself."

"I'm back to considering marriage again," Toby said as he retrieved the bottle.

"Flirt," Donna said coyly.

Toby broke the seal on the bottle and poured himself a health glass and one for CJ while shaking his head in dismay.

"I see that this bottle was not even open yet," Toby announced. "Josh, this is 26 year old brandy. What is wrong with you? Donna's the one pregnant. You can drink all you'd like."

"I didn't even know we had brandy," Josh replied. "I don't even like it."

"That's why you've got that cold thing," Toby assured him. "This will cure it. Trust me."

"Why do we have it?" Josh asked, declining the offer and shivering inwardly on how badly alcohol would burn if he swallowed it at this point.

"It was a Christmas gift from a neighbor," Donna answered him.

"How come I don't know about this?" he responded.

"Because you don't' celebrate Christmas, and you don't drink brandy," she told him helpfully.

"And you do?" Josh countered. "The liking brandy part not the…"

"He's like this at home," CJ groaned. "Donna, why did you marry him? Hell, why did you even work for him?"

"You're looking for a philosophical answer?" Toby questioned. "You, the woman who apparently employs The Force as her method of driving?"

"Hey, I had a bad day," CJ said, clinking her glass to Toby's. "My cheese day meeting was a nightmare. I think I was sexually harassed, but I really couldn't say how. Josh, how was yours?"

"Fine," he said simply. "The First Lady's staff is actually taking care of a thing."

"Don't ask about mine," Toby said quickly as he settled into the chair beside the fire. "We do not need any more federal holidays and if we did, I don't think paying homage to a battle I cannot find in any history book is going to be it. I said so and I was challenged to a duel."

"A duel?" Josh guffawed. "Charlie said things were getting heated in there. So did South Carolina secede again?"

"If they did, we all might be better off, but no," Toby said.

Up next: Chapter 21: The Fulbrights


	21. The Fulbrights

**Title**: Heaven and Hell (Chapter 21): **_The Fulbrights_**

**Author**: Enigmatic Ellie

**Lyman House**

**2:25 a.m.**

The storm had subsided though the wind continued to whip at the District with a fury worthy of disgruntled voters on Election Day. Donna stirred from her resting place on the couch. She listened intently for several seconds to the sounds of the room. The fire could be heard crackling quietly as though it were dying. She expected other sounds, the sounds of her guests, who she believed were camping out on the floor around the room. At least, that's where they were when she last saw them before drifting off to sleep. No sooner did she turn her head to survey the room than the reason she was awake nudged her in the side again.

"Ow," Donna groaned shifting to a different position. She sat up from her place on the couch and looked around at the darkness. She became aware of a silhouette on the far side of the room. "Josh?"

"No, it's Toby," Toby said softly then moved away from the window and back toward her voice. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't; they did," Donna replied getting comfortable in the corner of the couch. "They're up."

"They?" Toby asked then looked around the room.

"Them," Donna said with a touch of grumble in her voice as she rubbed her distended abdomen then. She caught her tone then shook her head and spoke to her midsection. "Sorry."

"You apologize to them?" Toby scoffed. "Do they have ears?"

"Yes, and they're on the outside of the head now," Donna informed him. "That look on your face is the same one Josh had so you must have the same question he did so: No, I'm not fully certain where the ears were before they were on the outside."

"Oh, did I wake them?" Toby asked a little disgusted and a little intrigued.

"No," Donna assured him. "It must be around 2 a.m. For the last week or so, this is when decide to do calisthenics."

"It's 2:25," Toby answered checking his watch in the dim light from the fireplace.

"So they're running a little later than normal," she observed. "It's been an odd day. Where's Josh? And where's CJ?"

"They left," Toby explained. "CJ couldn't sleep. She was worried about her car. She was going to try to dig it out herself, but Josh went with her. He didn't want to, but… I'm not sure what possessed him to be generous. Maybe he's running a fever."

"He might be," Donna said. "He has tonsilitus. But I didn't' tell you that."

"Isn't that a children's ailment?" Toby asked then shrugged. "Actually, don't tell me. Nothing would surprise me about Josh and mostly I don't care about your answer. They left about an hour ago; they should either get the car here or give up and return shortly."

"Why didn't you go?" Donna asked.

"I don't even like being outside in daylight or warm weather," Toby said firmly. "I told Mrs. Grizzly Adams and Nature Boy that I'd sit out this field trip."

"CJ needed help and Josh doesn't think I can sleep without supervision," Donna interpreted with a nod. "He's become a flagrant a worrywart."

"I can empathize," Toby replied. "And for the record, he didn't ask me to stay behind. I made it known I had no intention of helping. CJ's whining and guilt just worked better on him than me."

"Guilt trips don't work on you?" Donna asked.

"CJ's efforts are too mediocre," Toby scoffed. "I have a tolerance more akin to a Jedi level. My mother chaired the committee that invented guilt trips."

Donna listened and tried to move too much as the extra arms an legs inside her were beginning to do their after midnight exploring. One of them normally found a nerve bundle that shot hot pains down her right leg. She wasn't sure why, but she was certain it was the boy. It was more aggravating than painful and kept repeating the process as if it he enjoyed; that alone reminded her sufficiently of Josh that she felt her assignment of the activity to their son was justified.

"Has he spoken to you about…," Toby began. "I'm not sure how to say this. You know about Sam? About why he and Josh don't…"

"I know all about it," she said quickly. "I spoke to Sam months ago. It was wrong, but I forgave him."

"Josh hasn't," Toby said.

"I know," she replied. "Is it a problem?"

"It's going to be," Toby said. "They need to completely trust each other if they're going to get this immigration thing through the House or the Senate. We've only got so much political capital we can spend on this, and the rest has got to be covered by our own savvy—something that generally dooms us from the start."

"What does that have to do with…," Donna began.

"That's going to mean taking some risks and making some quick and very informed decisions," Toby said. "They need to be in complete synchronization to do this. And even if they fake it well enough, Josh is not going to see this one to the end. He's going to have to abdicate this to Sam in the home stretch. That is, unless you want to do the whole labor and first few weeks with your children solo."

"He says he can handle both," Donna said.

"He thinks he can, but Leo agrees with me," Toby stated. "Josh needs to be focused on the bill and only the bill if he's working with it. From what I have seen in the last few weeks, that's not going to be possible."

"Because he's mad at Sam?" she asked.

"Because of you," Toby replied uncomfortably. "You'd have to be blind to not see that he has great concern and… affection for you."

"What is it with people like you?" Donna asked. "A family is not an Achilles heel."

"I'm not faulting him, Donna," Toby said earnestly. "But you said so yourself, you are much more of a concern for him than you ever have been previously. I suppose on some level, I envy him. Your relationship is not a bad thing—well, maybe for you, but you chose to marry him so I can only assume that you enjoy his presence."

Donna smirked and let Toby continue.

"However, he has two very different lives right now and they don't intersect very well," Toby said. "I wouldn't ask that he choose between them, but I also know he's not going to focus on running a vote if he's keeping tabs on whether or not you're in labor. He can get us to the point where we can run without him, but we'll get there quicker if he learns to trust Sam. Sam has to know every thought that runs through Josh's head on this thing, and Josh isn't really interested in sharing that much with him right now."

"Why are you telling me this?" Donna wondered. "If you're concerned or if Leo is, talk to Josh. This sort of thinking is what started all the trouble in the first place, isn't it?"

"I'd like to think lack of sleep and Sam's closet fascination with that fruity coffee place and his apparent penchant for believing people actually live out the maudlin plots to bad '80s melodramas gave rise to things," Toby said rubbing his head. "It takes me off the hook even further for any responsibility in this mess."

"I can't give him orders," Donna said. "Well, I can, but I only have a 50 percent chance he'll entertain them. Have Leo talk to him. Josh will listen to Leo; even when he was mad at him, Josh still listened to Leo."

"Leo trusts Josh and doesn't think my concern is founded in reality," Toby answered. "Leo is a wise man, but there are times when he is wrong. I think he has at least a small blind spot where Josh is concerned."

"What do you mean?"

"From the moment Leo brought Josh onto the first campaign, he put him in a place of ultimate trust and responsibility and even when Josh was behaving like a jackass in the late fall, Leo never seriously considered replacing him," Toby scoffed then shook his head. "Josh has screwed up colossally in the past and Leo stood by him. To put it succinctly, Leo thinks Josh can slay dragons. Donna, you know what I'm talking about. I understand that Josh is his guy. He's Leo's go-to more often than not, but when Josh is struggling or when he's in trouble, Leo won't step in and bail him out usually because he's usually absolutely certain Josh can pull himself out of it. Normally, he does. But when he doesn't…"

"Crash and burn," Donna nodded.

"Yeah," Toby agreed. "After Rosslyn, Josh should have gone through a full traumatic incident debriefing—not that five minute Q and A they did at the hospital. Leo let him come back to the office—let him start working from home even before then—just because Josh convinced him that he was fine. Leo refused to see what we all were seeing; it took an incident in the Oval Office in front of the President to make him understand what we all were saying: Josh needed help. I think we all knew that no one could be perfectly fine after what Josh went through, but Leo believed Josh could be because he believes in Josh."

Donna nodded. She agreed to the point. She had been concerned that Josh was bouncing back from the shooting too quickly. She kept a careful eye on him and brought her concerns to Leo initially. Leo told her to keep an eye on things but not to worry too much because Josh was tough and could get through anything. It wasn't until the incident in the Oval Office that the Chief of Staff was forced to concede that his mighty deputy was in dire straights.

"Leo tells me everything is working just fine with Sam and Josh," Toby said. "They're making progress and getting it done, he tells me. Outward appearances that seems true. But Sam is hesitant in all the steps he takes because he knows Josh doesn't trust him, and Josh is holding this grudge which keeps him from really jumping into this with Sam because he's not sure if he hates the guy. They can have their meetings, and they can do opposition prep. I don't care if they can sit and write a brief together. The trust we need for this isn't there, and it needs to be—soon. So I'm asking you to talk to him."

"What would I say?" she asked. "Toby, I agree with you that this has gone on for too long. But what do you want me to say to him: Josh, you need to forgive Sam for not trusting you and doing his level best to prevent you from falling for me? No, Toby, I won't. Josh has had a lot taken away from him in his life. He never deserved any of it, but it happened anyway. That's just how life has treated him. Do I think he's taking out a lot of that frustration on Sam? Sure. Is it wrong? Probably. But this is something he needs to work through in his own time. If you're concerned about it impacting his work, you talk to him."

"If I thought my saying anything to him would work, I would have," Toby sighed.

"And you think going behind his back to manipulate him is a smart thing to do?" Donna questioned. "I'm going to reiterate here that this what started this problem in the first place."

Toby looked at her with frustration and resignation. He had come to the same conclusion but hoped he was being too cynical. Hearing his own thoughts clearly from Donna's mouth depressed him.

"Do they hurt you?" Toby asked after a moment.

"Josh and Sam's problem?" Donna asked then shrugged. "I really don't think about…"

"No, the babies," Toby said gesturing at her and seeing no need to make her upset. "You were groaning a second ago. Are you in pain?"

"Nothing I can't handle," she said. "I mean, even if I couldn't handle it, I don't really have a choice. The one on the left side has a lot of energy and doesn't really seem to care what gets in his way: a rib, an organ. He just collides with it. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he enjoys causing me pain."

"That's the boy?" Toby asked. He felt pangs of envy. One of the reasons he believed his own marriage failed was their inability to have what his wife wanted most: a child.

"I think it is, so I say 'he,'," Donna replied. "If his behavior in utero is any indication, we'll need to find a very patient preschool for him."

Toby nodded and made no further comment. He had none to offer. He didn't engage people in conversations about their children normally. He knew nothing of babies and very little about toddlers. School age children scared him and teenagers just drew him to pits of despair with their lack of direction or devotion to anything other than hedonistic pleasures. At least, that's what he told himself anytime discussions other people's families arose. It was easier than letting himself dwell on that empty spot in his own life.

His search for a new topic of conversation was mercifully short as the sounds of voices in the garage floated into the room followed by the sounds of footsteps. Moments later, CJ and Josh entered the house bickering quietly.

"Are you all right, either of you, both of you?" Donna called as she heard them enter through the garage entrance. "You can argue in here near the fire where it's warmer. You won't wake anyone."

"Why are you awake?" Josh asked from the recesses of the hall.

"Toby and I went outside and made snow angels," she said. "Was CJ's car okay?"

"It was fine," CJ said in a starchy tone. "It was just a little buried. A plow had come by and made enough of a path to back it up and move it. Everything's fine."

"CJ killed a dog," Josh said walking into the room sporting a grin and cheeks flushed by the cold temperatures outside. He was followed swiftly by CJ.

"I did not," she protested and gaped at him. "That wasn't a dog. It was… it was… It was already dead, first off all. Nothing can be that stiff and still have any life to it."

"Your private life is just really sad, isn't it?" Josh chuckled despite the sharp back-handed slap she landed on his chest. "Is that why you killed the dog?"

"I'm not even sure it was an animal of any sort," she seethed. "It looked like a chuck of ice."

"Shaped like a dog," Josh offered and ducked another blow from her hand.

"Do you even know what a dog looks like?" CJ asked. "Aren't you the sissy on staff who's afraid of bears around every corner outside?"

"No, that sissy is Toby," Josh informed her confidently pointing at the man seated near the fire. "I'm the one who helped you up after that cow attacked you in the first campaign."

"I notice you didn't disagree with the sissy part," she said sharply and walked away from him to get closer to the flames and to warm herself.

"Why are you awake?" Josh asked Donna again.

"Exercise time," she said stifling a yawn.

"You get up and exercise at this hour?" CJ asked.

"Not me," Donna said and rubbed a spot on her abdomen where she was certain the tips of toes were attempting to protrude. "They're more active now but with less room. I can't sleep through it lately. Sometimes you can see little bumps here and there move. It's actually rather…"

"Gross," Josh grimaced. Then looked at Donna. "It is. It reminds me of the movie Alien."

Donna kicked him lightly in the ankle in reprimand, much to CJ's pleasure.

"Oh, he gets kicked too," CJ nodded. "Nice."

Josh glared at CJ then attempted to remind his wife she was part of his Don't Hit Josh group.

"Josh gets queasy with anything… biological," Donna said and earned a blazing stare from him.

"I do not," he protested.

"You nearly fainted when I just _told_ about how I had blood drawn two weeks ago," Donna reminded him. "You weren't even there."

"So it would be a good idea to get in on the pool that says he faints in the delivery room," CJ ventured with a devious grin.

"There's no real money to win on that," Toby said knowingly. "Everyone knows it's a sure thing."

"Hold on, there's no pool about me," Josh said. "That's not right."

Before he could argue his point further, there was a chirping noise from the floor near Toby. Everyone in the room froze for a moment, surprised to be reminded that technology still existed and was functioning somewhere. Toby groped on the floor for a moment and retrieved a cellphone from under his chair.

"That's me," he said the answered. "Toby Ziegler…. Leo….. Uh, yeah, fine. Why?... It did?... They did?... Did anyone think to, I don't know, look for… No, no…. What?... I'm with CJ now; we're at Josh's."

"Ahem," Donna interjected.

"And Donna's," Toby added dutifully. "I don't know. I can ask."

He pulled the phone away from his chin for a moment and turned to Josh.

"Leo's been trying to reach you," Toby said. "Is your phone dead or are you ignoring him?"

Rather than answer, Josh held his hand out and took Toby's phone. He then walked out of the room to continue his conversation with Leo while scanning the darkness with great futility to search for his phone.

"That was Leo?" CJ asked.

"What gave you that idea?" Toby asked.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"The power's out so I'm guessing that a lot and a little at the same time," Toby said. "He's still at the White House; Sam's there, too. Apparently Sam received a report that my car was hit by a plow or a tank or something. There was some concern for a moment, apparently, that I might have been in it."

"You weren't," Donna offered with a simple smile.

"Apparently," Toby nodded then groaned. "And the stellar minds that made that brilliant deduction couldn't make another quantum leap and figure out how to reach me. There's a message on my office door to see security about it when I get in tomorrow."

"Well, Leo did call," CJ said as some consolation.

"He was tired of being pestered by Sam," Toby replied. "Sam tried calling my apartment and when I didn't answer decided that wherever I was I was better off not getting the information from him. However, when putting the note on my door, he realized that I'm the one fixing that last piece for the G-8 economic summit speech, and he figured it might be a good idea to find out if I was anywhere at all."

"That's sweet in a selfish but dedicated way," CJ said.

"Why did Leo want Josh?" Donna asked.

"A question I've asked myself repeatedly since we met," Toby shook his head and stared into the fire.

**The White House**

**Oval Office Outer Office**

**4:56 p.m., Thursday**

Sam Seaborn leaned on Charlie's desk while he waited for the President to complete his meeting with the Secretary of State. Sam was due to give the commander-in-chief a briefing on the latest proposals for the immigration reform package House Republicans were generating. He was pleased to be given this assignment. He hoped that it was yet another sign that Josh was considering possibly forgiving him.

"Is that smile for me, Sam?" Debbie Fidderer asked as she entered the room. "Because I have to tell you, I turn a lot of men's heads, and it takes more than a set of pearly whites to get me to accept a dinner invitation."

"With a woman of your talents, I would expect a full accreditation and resume would be a prerequisite for just coffee," Sam replied.

"Sarcasm as flattery, how original for this staff," she chided as she looked down at the schedule on her desk. "He's going to be in there for another 10 minutes if you have something else to do."

"No, I'm good," Sam said. "This was only recently put on my schedule, and I made sure I was prepared and made certain I had no competing agenda items."

"You were looking for something to do and Josh got called to the Minority Whip's office to discuss counter proposals," Debbie insisted.

"He did?"

"That's what I heard on CNN," she replied.

"Oh," Sam sighed, feeling less a part of the team. "Then I… well… It's the President so this is important, too."

"Actually, its probably not because whatever you tell him, he'll have already heard from the Secretary of State," Debbie corrected. "He had lunch with Texas delegation today, and they discussed trade and the Mexican economy."

"That was on CNN, too?" Sam asked, thinking he needed a TV in his office.

"No, I heard that from the Secretary of State," Debbie answered. "I think he was trying to impress me so he could get the courage to ask me out to dinner."

"The Secretary of State is married," Sam said, unclear whether she was joking.

"So was I once," she said. "So was my ex husband. That never stopped him from dating."

"You're not serious," Sam said.

"Sure I am," Debbie said. "How do you think I got the house in the divorce?"

"I mean about the Secretary of State," Sam replied befuddled.

"Hey, you never know and I like to keep my options open," she said as she began reading through the stack of memos on her desk. "He does travel a lot and I've always wanted to see the world."

"Why haven't you?"

"It costs money," she sighed. "Maybe I should find an eligible traveling companion on this list."

"What list is that?"

"Fulbright Scholars," she said. "The President accepted an invitation to address a contingent of recent recipients and former recipients this weekend. There are a lot of names on this list."

"Yes, but some of them are female and some of them are recently graduated college seniors," Sam pointed out, recalling the President's weekend address that Toby had finished polishing the previous day. The administration was going to use the event to push for further international ties and cooperation in a number of fields and the immigration question would be one of them.

"Hey, at my age you can't be picky and youth has it's advantages," she said shaking her head. "Now, why is he not on this list?"

"Who?" Sam asked. "You have a calendar of Mr. Fulbright Scholar's? Mr. July missing from the guest list?"

"More like Mr. October," Debbie puzzled. "I was told he would be here. Leo said he would. Guess I have some work to do."

**Lyman House, **

**Friday 12:53 p.m.**

A chirping noise split the silence of the living room. Donna heaved herself to a standing position from her seat in the chair opposite the couch. She did so as quickly as possible to retrieve the phone before it woke Josh. He lay on the couch, in the same position where he proclaimed, in hushed tones two hours earlier, that he was not tired. They had returned from the hospital just before 11 a.m. She had left him only briefly to run to the pharmacy to pick up his antibiotics. Upon her return, she found him asleep with his shoes on still and a legal pad clutched to his chest. He had not stirred at all in the time since.

Once standing, she lifted his phone from the front pocket of his backpack and answered it just before the voicemail would have picked up.

"Josh Lyman," she said softly as she made her way out of the living room to afford him more peace.

"Donna, I need him for a minute," Leo said tersely.

"Uh, is it important?" Donna asked hesitantly.

"Is it important?" Leo growled.

"I mean, is it an emergency?" she replied. "He can't talk at the moment."

"That throat thing still?" Leo remarked. "He said it was getting better."

"Well, yes, it is," Donna answered, wondering when Leo began believing Josh's delusions that he was able to recover from anything within moments of being told there was something wrong.

"Look, I need to see him about his meeting with Katz and Bremmer tomorrow," Leo said. "He's at home the rest of the day?"

"Yeah," she said cautiously. "He has to…"

"Look, I'll just drop by," Leo said. "I gotta head to the Pentagon for four so I'll stop by your place first. It'll just take a minute."

Before she could disagree, he disconnected. She thought it odd that Leo would not have gone over something important for a morning meeting with Josh before he took the day off for surgery, but considering the twists and turns of a Washington day, there was a better than average chance that something had come up recently that needed discussion. She returned to the living room and decided she would let him sleep a little while longer. When Leo's car arrived in the drive, she would wake him. Before then, all she needed to do was find him a fresh black marker.

Thirty minutes later, Donna jostled Josh's shoulder and told him to wake up for a visitor. She didn't give him any additional details as she made her way to the front door to greet Leo. He nodded apologetically for the intrusion and asked if she should be the one answering the door.

"Sure, why not?" she asked as she closed the door behind him.

"I'm just… I thought you weren't feeling well," Leo explained. "That's why he wanted to work from home today. He went with you to the hospital for a thing, didn't he?"

"With me to the hospital?" Donna repeated and shook her head at her husband's selective disbursement of information. "Is that what he told you?"

"Honestly, I wasn't really listening, but that was the gist of it," Leo said. "He said something about going with you to the hospital for a procedure. Why?"

"Follow me," Donna said firmly.

They entered the living room and Donna made a grand gesture of taking the cap off the black marker on the table and handing it to Josh and explaining to him very slowly and patronizingly that Leo was here to speak with him. She asked whether he was up to the task and scolded him with a stern tone, adorned with a wagging finger, when he attempted to answer her orally.

"What the hell is going on?" Leo asked looking confused.

"Josh had a procedure this morning to remove his tonsils," Donna said in a pleased and sickly sweet voice as she pat him on the shoulder. "I guess he forgot to mention that. He can't actually speak right now."

"I can speak," he said quietly and painfully then got his ear promptly flicked by Donna as punishment.

"Write it down," she commanded. "No more talking, Josh. It'll only take longer to heal if you don't obey doctor's orders. Leo, he can write his answers down if you have questions. I'll be in the other room if anyone needs me."

Leo looked at him and shook his head.

"Writing?" Leo asked.

"He left the power cord for his lap top on his desk and killed the battery last night," Donna said proudly. "He wouldn't let me call Marcy to have her drop the cord off because then she'd know I wasn't the one who was sick. So… the pen it is."

She smiled triumphantly then left the room.

"Tonsils?" Leo asked as he sat down and shook his head. "What are you, 12?"

"I had them out when…," Josh began.

"I CAN HEAR YOU," Donna called from the kitchen. "Use the pen, Josh."

Josh shook his head and shrugged at the humility of it all and signaled that this was the second time he'd had the procedure done. This was the reason he did not tell the whole truth when scheduling his day off.

Josh gnashed his teeth momentarily and then scrawled on his legal pad: CAN WE NOT…

"Sure, whatever," Leo said, waving off other writing. "Are you going to be able to take this meeting tomorrow or should we send Sam?"

"I can go," Josh wrote confidently.

"Yeah, but you can't speak," Leo said. "There are times when that would be a real bonus for us, but not tomorrow."

"Why?" Josh questioned.

"Well, generally, when you hold a come to Jesus meeting with the leadership, you have to use your words," Leo pointed out. "I don't think a round of charades is gonna have as much impact."

"I can do it," Josh insisted, underlining the words three times.

"Yeah, I'll send Sam," Leo nodded then cut off any debate. "I'm not going to argue with you and your marker. One, because it's a waste of my time, and two, because it's mostly just ridiculous. How the hell is it that you don't tell me these things?"

Josh shrugged.

"BECAUSE HE'S A BABY AND DIDN'T WANT CJ TO MAKE FUN OF HIM," Donna called helpfully from the next room. Josh began to scrawl on the page furiously. "AND I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE WRITING, JOSH. THAT'S NO WAY TO TALK ABOUT YOUR WIFE."

Josh scribbled out his words, obliterating them petulantly.

"Take tomorrow off," Leo said and cut off any protests from Josh. "You're no good to us if you can't speak. You'll just slow everything down if we have to keep up with your notes. You can sit at home and read the text of the latest immigration proposals. You have to do it anyway. You'll be interrupted less here. You can send me your brief in email so have Donna… never mind. Donna?"

"Yes," she answered sweetly.

"Call Marcy, have her bring whatever he needs to work here," Leo said. "Tell her she has my permission to make fun of him and tell whoever she wants at the office about it."

"Consider it done," Donna answered.

Josh groaned and looked at Leo feeling wounded and betrayed.

"Get over it," Leo growled then added to the man's displeasure by giving him more information. "Oh, by the way, the President put your name back on the list for the dinner."

"What dinner?" Josh wrote.

"He's speaking at the thing about the Fulbright Scholarships," Leo recalled. "They're honoring a couple dozen former winners, and you were on the list."

"Lucky me," Josh wrote and rolled his eyes. "I'm not going."

"You are now," Leo said. "Marcy said you never RSVP'ed, but the organizers called and Debbie told the President about it. He's giving the keynote speech, and he'd be gratified by your attendance."

"He's punishing me for something?" Josh ventured.

"Probably, but he's hard to read sometimes," Leo replied. "The dinner is Sunday night. Debbie has the details. She's calling Donna today about it."

"This is a conspiracy," Josh wrote.

"With Debbie, anything's possible," Leo nodded. "The dinner is a formal event so you get the fun of dressing up like a maitre'de and spending your evening with Washington society."

"Why me?" Josh scribbled.

"You're a respected member of the President's staff who was honored by this award previously," Leo said.

"And?" he scrawled.

"And you were dumb enough to think you could keep your kiddy little illness a secret from me so maybe this is punishment," Leo shrugged. "Besides, the Post is going to be springing a series on the immigration debate starting next week and one piece is comparing U.S. impact around the world with immigrants' contributions to the U.S. The Fulbright Scholarship is half of the story. You're at a table with Danny Concannon. Since you can't speak, I feel a lot better about having you so close to the Post, but the irony is I need you to talk to him all the same."

"You're enjoying this," Josh wrote spying Leo's grin.

"Josh," Leo sighed with a smirk. "Of course I'm enjoying this. You had to expect that, kid."

**The Hotel Swiss**

**Grand Ball Room**

**Sunday, 8 p.m.**

The room hummed with hundreds of conversations. Donna sat at the table, soaking in the atmosphere and graciously exhaling all the claustrophobia she felt in her veins from her newly imposed exile from the world. She knew Josh did not like these sorts of affairs and likely should have been home resting. However, his doctors said there was no reason he could not resume his normal activities (other than shouting) immediately. His voice was sounding less hoarse and he looked better than he had in weeks. So Donna felt no guilt in her clandestine phone call to the President's executive secretary days earlier to seek her help in strong arming Josh to this event.

Donna felt it appropriate that he attend for two reasons: First, he was on the list. There was great honor in having been a Fulbright Scholar. Josh's mother had spoken about his year abroad to Donna on several occasions. She promised to bring her the letters he had written home to Donna so she could read for herself what his impressions had been living in Tel Aviv during that time. Her next reason was closer to her own needs. She wanted to go out and the only way she could get that to happen was to have someone with the power to order Josh.

He had grumbled about going and made it a point to sulk in the car, though he contended he was not sulking so much as thinking about other things. He also vowed the very second she appeared tired or like she needed to rest, he was going to get their coats and they would leave. Donna had anticipated this and as such as made sure to take a nap during the afternoon. She was enjoying Josh's dismay at how perky and alert she felt that evening.

However, rather than risk being caught fighting off the slights hint of a yawn, she took steps to be rid of him for a few moments. During his absence, she was joined by the First Lady who had been working the room in her typical fashion.

"Donna," Abigail Bartlet said taking a seat beside her. "No, don't stand. I remember how much effort that takes. Do you mind if I join you for a few moments?"

"Not at all, Mrs. Bartlet," Donna replied. "You look lovely."

"Its not hard when someone else picks out your clothing," she said. "I haven't seen you in weeks, since the Congressional Christmas Party, I think. You look wonderful but tired. Are you sleeping enough?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Donna replied. "And, I don't mean to be rude, but I would appreciate it if you kept you voice down with that observation. The last thing I need is for Josh to hear you and take it as a medical opinion that I need to go home right now. He's very… Oh, I'm not going to be diplomatic: He's driving me nuts. I understand he is just showing his concern, but there are moments when I want to hit in the head with something heavy."

The First Lady laughed and shook her head.

"Would you rather he ignore you?" she asked after her mirth passed. "I figured he would take one track or the other during your pregnancy. The nonchalant cool politician role or the overly protective spouse routine. Trust me: This is better, even if you want to kill him."

"I suppose," Donna sighed. "But since I was put in limited duties, it's only gotten worse. He doesn't think I should get up during the day and get the mail. As if carrying a dozen envelopes and a few small catalogs from the front of the house into the kitchen is going to hurt me. Considering the things he used to ask of me when I worked for him directly… I recall working until 2 a.m. and being told to be back at 5 am as if that was a huge favor for which I should be thankful."

"You weren't his wife or carrying his children then," Abigail noted.

"Some days I think I was better off," Donna smirked. "It's very stressful to be told to relax. I feel useless."

"Nonsense," the First Lady replied. "You're just anxious and feeling a little trapped inside your body. That's normal. My advice is to have fun with it."

"Fun, Ma'am?"

"Order Josh around like he's your servant," Abigail suggested with the hints of an evil grin. "He'll either do what you command and that will be a delight I'm sure or he'll become more reasonable. Either way, you're the one in charge."

"I hadn't thought of that," Donna nodded liking the idea. "Thank you, Ma'am. Did you do that to the President when you were expecting?"

"With Liz he was too nervous so I didn't have the heart to toy with him," she explained. "But with Ellie he developed more confidence so I started making some rules. By the time we were expecting Zoey, he thought he had the process down. You'd think he was planning on delivering the baby himself. In fact, if you ask him, to this day he will claim that he had read enough on midwifery that he was confident he was up to the task."

"Was he?"

"I had to drive myself to the hospital for Zoey," Abigail said. "I called him and told him it was time, and he drove past our house and to the hospital, forgetting to pick me up on the way."

Donna covered her mouth to hide her smirk.

"But that's just between us," Abigail said slyly.

"Of course, Ma'am," Donna agreed. "I don't think Josh would forget me, but I think there's a fairly good chance that he might faint or forget how to drive entirely when the time comes."

"Where is he, by the way?" Abigail asked. "I expected to find him hovering or plotting some strategy to leave early."

"I bribed Danny Concannon into distracting him for another hour," Donna said with a suggestion of guilt in her voice. She then pointed across the room where the two men were locked in conversation. "They're over there debating a topic very near and dear to Josh's heart."

"Not the immigration bill?" Abigail asked dejectedly.

"No, something much more important to Josh," Donna explained. "The Mets' bullpen for this coming season. Danny promised to keep Josh occupied long enough for me to get up and stretch my legs for a few minutes without him either ushering me out of the building or corralling me to sit down."

"Oh, was I interrupting your walk?" Abigail asked.

"No, "Donna sighed. "After they left, I decided the effort it would take to get up just didn't seem to be worth it."

"Maybe Josh is right," the First Lady said with a touch of concern. "Perhaps you should be heading home. Tired is par for the course with pregnancy, but there's no need to be a hero."

"I'm fine, Ma'am," Donna assured her. "I just didn't sleep well last night—don't tell Josh. His medication knocked him out entirely so he didn't notice."

"Are you feeling all right?" Abigail asked with concern. "That's a doctor talking, by the way."

"I'm fine," Donna said. "There's just too much movement going on for me to get comfortable some nights. I think one of them is trying to teach the other Greco-Roman wrestling. I'm beginning to doubt I'll make it to the end of April before they decide to greet the world."

"Twins usually don't go full term," she said. "I wouldn't be surprised if you are introducing us to your new family by the time we ring the bell to start the Cherry Blossom festival."

**Deputy Chief of Staff's Office**

**Tuesday, 11:16 a.m.**

Marcy hurriedly pulled files out of Josh's backpack. She was feeling manic. The folder she needed had been on her desk the previous evening. She had his notes prepped and ready and then…

"You son of a… why do you touch things?" she growled.

"How else am I to bring out this sunny side of your personality?" Josh quipped as he entered his office from the Operations Bullpen. "What are you looking for?"

"Daryl Wright's proposal," she huffed.

"That's Congressman Wright," he corrected her. "And it's in the green folder."

"None of these are green," she pointed out, holding the bag open. "I had it yesterday afternoon and I put it on the corner of my desk and then…"

"I took it home to make some notes," he said.

"Why?"

"Because it's mine and I… I don't have to explain that to you," he said. "What is the problem?"

"You don't have it," she said. "You have a meeting in 45 minute with the leadership and you don't have the proposal they are going to discuss. I think Sam has a copy and…"

"Don't bother," he said, lifting the phone and dialing. "I think I know where it is."

He waited for several seconds but was rewarded only with a busy signal. He hung up and tired another number. This one rang four times then when to voice mail. He shook his head.

"Teaching me a lesson," he said softly. "Fine."

"Well?" Marcy asked aggressively. "Do I get Sam to help or not?"

"Not," Josh said confidently as he grabbed his coat. "It's on my kitchen table. I must have left it there this morning. I've got time to run home then get back to the Hill for the meeting."

"Do you want me to call the Minority Leader's office and tell her that you're running late?"

Josh shook his head as he grabbed his bag.

"The meetings not for another hour," he said. "I'll be home and back in under 40."

"Maybe you should just get Sam's copy," Marcy suggested as she fell in step behind him. "That'll be quicker and easier and…"

"And it won't have my notes on it," Josh informed her. "I worked on this until 2 this morning. Trust me, I need mine. Sam's meeting with a few Republican swing votes right now and I don't want to bother him."

"Are they going to help us?" Marcy asked. Her curiosity about the work happening around her grew daily though she wasn't sure why as she detested politicians.

"No," Josh said confidently. "Frankly, I'm suspicious of the meeting. I don't know why they agreed. We asked as a perfunctory matter. We never really expected them to accept. I'd rather Sam give them his full attention so he can figure out what they're up to. See that no one disturbs him."

"Anything else?" she asked as he reached the doors to the northwest lobby.

"Use whatever voodoo method you have of reaching Donna and tell her point taken," Josh said.

"Meaning?" Marcy asked puzzled.

"She's ignoring my calls because she can," Josh said. "It's her form of rebellion against her doctor's orders for bed rest."

"Why is she punishing you?" Marcy asked. "Other than you're the reason she's in this condition."

"I think it's more because I was right that she should listen to her doctor," Josh smirked. "She wasn't feeling great this morning when I called, and she blamed her headache on me. I take it as a victory that she's taken the house phone off the hook and ignoring my calls to her cell phone. Tell her she can reconnect the house to the telecommunications world; I'll be too busy for the rest of the day to check in on her hourly."

**Lyman House**

**11:38 a.m.**

Josh arrived home later than he expected due to more traffic than anticipated. However, he was confident he could make it back to the Hill in time so long as he didn't end up in a protacted discussion with Donna about her work schedule or her current feeling of uselessness given the restrictions placed on her by her doctor.

"I notice you didn't venture out and get the mail today," Josh said loudly as he entered the house. "Does this mean you're finally listening to me?"

He had entered through the front door, something he realized he'd never done until that moment. He dropped the mail on the end table beside the couch. He took a stricter view of the term bed rest than Donna did. She claimed her doctor told her she was not confided to her bed at this point so much as she was under orders to take things easier.

Donna remained firm that she was allowed to get up during the day and go down stairs to work—something she did from Josh's office on the first floor—and walk to the kitchen to get herself food. Josh disagreed and believed it meant she was to stay in bed and not do anything for herself. She showed her defiance by leaving her lunch dishes on the counter for him to see when he got home in the evenings and by retrieving the mail each morning and sending him email to let him know what arrived. She was dragging Josh to her doctor's appointment that coming Friday for two reasons: One, she wanted to see how squeamish he got when they did the latest ultrasound (she was convinced that even that noninvasive procedure would make him get queasy); and two, so that he could hear from the doctor herself that Donna's interpretation of the doctor's orders was correct.

"Fine, you don't have to say I'm right, but for the record, we both know it now," he continued as he walked through the living room on his way to the office down. "I'm taking your lack of argument as agreement. Speaking of agreement, did I leave my… Donna!"

She lay on the floor in the hall, her hand on the phone receiver and her eyes closed. There was a small amount of blood on her chin and she was motionless.

"Donna, can you hear me?" Josh shouted as he ran to her and tried to rouse her. "Donna!"

**Up next: Chapter 22, When the Bough Breaks**


	22. When the Bough Breaks

**Title:** Heaven and Hell (Chapter 22): When the Bough Breaks…

**Author**: Enigmatic Ellie

**Email**: Since you all say you hate the cliffhangers so much (which naturally delights me), I decided to give you a partial reprieve and offer up the next chapter sooner rather than later. This chapter was supposed to be longer, but I'll just move the unfinished parts to Chapter 23. And no, that chapter isn't done yet.

**Roosevelt Room**

**1:05 p.m.**

Leo threw open the doors to the large meeting room and barked immediately at Sam, the first staffer he laid eyes upon.

"Leo, we've been looking for you," Sam said instantly.

"I was in the Situation Room with the President," he said tersely. "You want to tell me what the hell just happened here while I was gone?"

"They sprung a trap on us, Leo," Sam said helplessly. "I don't know anything more than you do."

"That's not encouraging," Leo growled. "Toby?"

The Communication's Director entered the room at the sound of his name being bellowed. He was shuffling through a stack of messages from congressmen seeking guidance and giving admonishments.

"They gaveled into session unexpectedly," Toby replied. "They ran the legislative equivalent of a two minute drill on us. They voted our measure out the door before we even had a chance to propose it. Leo, what's going on downstairs?"

"A real day at the beach," Leo shook his head.

"CNN is reporting an Israeli soldier was killed in a border skirmish near southern Lebanon," Toby ventured cautiously.

"That's not confirmed," Leo said.

"Israel is retaliating," Toby continued.

"That is confirmed," Leo seethed. "One mess at a time, Toby. Right now, I'm on this one. They blindsided us and no one saw this coming? Know what my next question is going to be?"

"Why?" Sam ventured.

"How," Toby corrected. "Why is the easy part, Sam. Leo, they did it because they could, and it makes us look bad. The question is how did they get it done. The answer to that is not available to me at the moment. I'm hoping Josh has it."

"Where the hell is he?" Leo asked, dissecting the room. "We need him in the Oval for the next briefing. I want him with the Deputy Secretary before we speak to the press."

"Why?" Toby asked, curious but not surprised. Josh was frequently involved in NSA discussions that Toby was not privy to first-hand in his communications post.

"He's familiar with these players and he was part of the delegation that went to Tel Aviv last year," Leo said. "I need him. Margaret?"

She appeared instantly at his side and pre-empted his request to find Josh with a response that she had already sent word to locate and deliver him to the Oval immediately. Leo thanked her then turned back to the domestic crisis that seemed a lot less important but that would likely encompass the nation's attention more than a more tenuous shooting match half way around the globe.

"Where is he?" Leo asked the room.

"Josh?" Toby responded. "On the Hill,"

"He's there and we still got beat up without even throwing a single punch?" Leo asked. "What are we missing? What don't I know?"

Before anyone could respond, the President stormed into the room. He was ramped up from his discussion with the Israeli Prime Minister and from the satellite photos of both Lebanon and Syria that were going to give him heartburn for at least the next 48 hours if all went perfectly smoothly on the diplomatic front, something he did not believe was likely. No sooner had he taken a deep breath from that morass than he was informed of the debacle on the Hill. The unscheduled and unforeseen vote on key aspects of the White House's preferred immigration package was not what he needed to hear or anything he had time to hear at that moment, but it was as good a reason as any to vent his pent up frustration.

"Is it ruin Jed Bartlet's Day today?" the President asked heatedly upon entering the room. "Am I understanding this: The backbone of our humanitarian approach to our leaky boards just went up in flames and we did nothing about it? I'm seeing House Republicans crowing on all news channels that the White House is in a policy shambles on our own legislation. Did I miss a memo?"

"Leo is seeking those answers right now, sir," Toby replied.

"As much as Leo wants answers, I want them more," Bartlet said darkly. "You have two minutes to tell me what happened and tell me how it is going to be fixed. Someone start talking. Now!"

**Oval Office**

**2:27 p.m.**

The meeting in the Roosevelt Room broke up not long after it was revealed to Bartlet that Larry's scant information in the Oval Office minutes before was the sum total of the staff's entire knowledge of the days events. He sent them on their way to find better answers with his disappointment audible in his words. He then trudged back to his office to meet with the Middle East advisors and get an update on the new potholes being created in the town of Haifa by Hezbollah-fired and Iranian-made rockets. The State Department was remaining optimistic that the US could keep an open line of communication to Lebanon—so long as the Israelis didn't fully open up their arsenal. Plans for dealing with the thousands of US citizens in both countries were discussed and more plans were slated for discussion later should the situation escalate.

Whether fortunate or not, the news about the Middle East situation was now reaching the wire services and deflating the Republican victory on the immigration vote. Bartlet listened to Leo and CJ discuss options on how she should spin the House's tactical victory as something other than what it was while keeping focused on the need for both sides of the fighting along the Israeli border to exercise restraint. CJ left to prep for her 3 p.m. briefing thinking she would need to learn magic tricks to make anything she said sound plausible or positive for the administration this day.

After she departed, Leo left the room briefly then returned looking as tense and uptight as ever.

"What the hell happened with this immigration thing?" Bartlet asked his Chief of Staff.

"They came out of conference and immediately called for a vote," Leo said, still amazed at the speed, precision and covert tactics used on them. "It was a hurry-up maneuver to kill the muscles in our bill."

"I got that," Bartlet said, tired of hearing the same information. "I'm asking what happened. Where was the leadership? Where was Josh! Where is he now? He was supposed to be here for the meeting with State."

"We're still checking into that," Leo said angrily.

"We don't know?" Bartlet gaped. "What? Is he hiding in a corner hoping I won't notice that he just screwed up to the point of us losing our best chance to get some legislation passed that doesn't contain Draconian measures for some of the most unfortunate people this nation houses? And even if that is the case, a dust up along the border of Israel should still rate a check in with me upon my request, shouldn't it?"

"Mr. President, I'm saying we don't know where he is at the moment," Leo responded. His anger for his deputy was equal to Bartlet's, but he was saving his decibels for the man personally. "Someone is tracking him down."

"Did he blow it, Leo?" the President asked aggressively. "Did he and Sam stop playing nice and it finally blew up in their faces? Where is Sam?"

"He's sitting with CJ right now wording our response on the immigration thing," Leo reminded him. "The Leadership is as surprised as we are about this; Toby's on the phone with them right now about the Middle East."

"Why isn't Josh?" Bartlet asked pointedly.

"I don't know," the Chief of Staff answered.

"So help me, Leo, if you're covering for him…," Bartlet began.

"No, sir," Leo snapped. "Look, we got ambushed. It's bad. I recognize that. We need to do some damage control right now and worry about punishing the staff later."

"Of course," Bartlet sighed then shook his head. Yelling at Leo did no good; he was not responsible for this fiasco. "But I want them in here, Sam and Josh. I want to know what happened. How did they spring this on us? How?"

Leo shook his head. More than an hour later since the debacle and he still did not have the answers he wanted and needed. He felt blind and deaf without Josh because he was the point man on this and on most legislative transactions of this nature. He was the one in charge of the President's politicking. He was also the missing piece in this puzzle at the moment. As Leo pondered the days events, Toby entered sporting his typical dower expression and holding his note pad.

"Mr. President," Toby said as he approached the desk. "That's what I'm trying to determine."

"Well?" Bartlet asked.

Toby flipped through his notes and began his short brief.

"The Leadership has been brief by State now on the Lebanon thing," Toby said. "They'll issue statements along with committee chairs in the next hour. On the other issue, House Democrats were in a meeting about our proposal when the Majority Leader gaveled into session. It was a page that alerted our guys to the vote. By the time they got there and got organized, it was in full swing and they couldn't take any action to halt the proceedings."

"How were they meeting on our proposal if we weren't in the room?" the President asked curiously.

"They were waiting to have the meeting," Toby said.

"With whom?"

"With Josh," Toby said hesitantly. "I know your next question is going to be what happened and that I don't have an answer for… yet."

"What does that mean?" Bartlet asked.

"I'm not entirely sure," Toby said carefully.

"Where was Josh while they were waiting for this meeting?"

"That's not clear at the moment," Toby again hedged.

"Toby, I'm in no mood for evasions," Bartlet growled. "Where were he and Sam?"

"Sam was here," Toby reported, glad for some information he could offer. "He was here to take some meetings with two Republican congressmen who we believed were on the fence. It looks like that was a setup, but that could just be us looking for conspiracies or excuses."

"Toby?" Bartlet growled.

"Josh had the meeting on the Hill," Toby explained. "That's all I know right now."

"Fine, let's start here," Bartlet said aggressively. "What does Josh say happened?"

"I don't know," Toby replied. "I haven't spoken to him."

"It's an epidemic today," Bartlet remarked angrily to Leo. "Okay, I'm going to ask a crazy question: Have we called him or is that too much trouble?"

"Marcy can't get him on the phone," Toby said. "Apparently, he's not answering her calls or the pages I sent to him."

"I'd say I'm not surprised, but I am," Bartlet said. "Leo, where the hell is he?"

"We're looking into that, sir," Leo said. "Marcy said he left for his meeting on the Hill a few hours ago, and that's the last we know for certain."

"Are you telling me Josh Lyman got lost between here and Capital Hill more than two hours ago?" the President queried. "Am I the only one who finds that hard to believe?"

"No, sir," Toby said. "But it's the best we have right now."

"I want a better answer than that," Bartlet snapped. "Find it."

Toby nodded and departed the office, nearly colliding with Charlie as he did so. The aide came in quietly and approached the President's desk with a dour expression. He waited for the President to pause in his discourse with the Chief of Staff and readied his words for that moment.

"This makes no sense, Leo," Bartlet bellowed in frustration. "Whatever he did or he and Sam did, I want it dealt with. I thought they had this play ground stuff under control. They stood right here yesterday and acted as though they were responsible adults who could handle this thing. What happened between then and now? I swear to you, Leo, if this happened because either of them couldn't continue to play nice, I will fire someone. I'm serious. This is not a little blunder with a reporter or over reaching in a negotiation. This reeks of outright incompetence. There's no room for that in this White House—especially not today!"

"Sir?" Charlie said hesitantly.

"What is it, Charlie?" Bartlet asked sternly as he caught his breath following the rant.

"It's about Josh," Charlie said simply.

"Is he standing beside your desk with his head on a platter because otherwise, I don't think it's safe for me to see him for a few more minutes," the President said.

"No sir," the aide reported. "He's not here. Marcy found him, but she didn't… She wasn't comfortable telling anyone herself. I mean, she told me and asked that I tell… whoever."

"What is it?" Bartlet asked, ratcheting down his anger as he sensed his personal aide's distress.

"He's at the hospital, sir," Charlie said gravely. "He went home before a meeting on the Hill. He needed to get a file from Donna, and he found on the floor. She had collapsed."

"Is she all right?" Leo asked quickly.

"No," Charlie replied with a stricken expression. "I don't have a lot of details, but I thought I should tell you what little I know from Marcy. She's pretty shaken up. She wanted you to know that it's not his fault—not Josh's fault—that he missed the meeting today or that no one could reach him. Marcy tried to call him and when he didn't answer she retraced his steps from the time he left the White House. She knew he went home to get a file so she went to his house looking for him. She found the door to the house was still open, and inside she found Josh's Blackberry on the floor. She got scared so she found a neighbor who was home, and the man told her that there was an ambulance at the house earlier. Marcy thinks Josh must have dropped his phone and didn't think to pick it up again when he left for the hospital. She said the last number dialed on it was 911. Anyway, she wanted you and Leo to know that it's not really Josh's fault that we couldn't reach him, sir. He hasn't been available. She wanted you to know that."

"It's all right," Bartlet said calmly, internally chastising himself for his earlier rant.

Bartlet did not recall whether Marcy was in the Roosevelt Room when he stormed in and began raging about the House vote earlier. He reminded himself that she was new to this work. It was not surprising that, given her working relationship with her boss, that she thought it was her job to protect him first.

"Did she say anything else?" Leo asked.

"Not much," Charlie replied. "Like I said, she's pretty shaken up. After she talked to the neighbor, she went to the hospital, and she saw Josh. She didn't really speak to him. I mean she tried. She saw him but he's not... talkative. There was a doctor talking to him. She over heard the doctor say something about hemorrhaging and Donna's blood pressure not being stable. Marcy wasn't positive, but she thinks she also might have heard something about them trying to determine whether Donna had a stroke."

"Dear god," the President said softly and hung his head for a moment. All thoughts of an immigration bill were gone from his mind. "The babies?"

"They had to operated to… you know take them out," Charlie said.

"Cesarean section," Bartlet offered.

"Yeah," Charlie nodded quickly. "Marcy got that much from Josh. She wasn't clear on their condition. She doesn't know if they're even alive. Donna was being sent to the critical care unit."

"Thank you, Charlie," the President sighed mightily and leaned on his desk, offering a quick prayer before reorganizing his thoughts.

Charlie watched the man and knew he was feeling the personal burden of this tragedy. He was very close to his senior staff and considered them as more than just workers or colleagues. He genuinely cared about them and their families for he knew that the work they did so often pulled them away and forced them to make sacrifices.

"Leo, Marcy also wondered who she should call to be with Josh," Charlie reported. "She said she wants to be able to do it, but doesn't think she can or that she's the right person. She's really… She's a mess. Debbie sent her home."

"All right," Leo said, still processing the information and wondering, as he knew he must, how they were going to get up off the mat from this defeat on the hill and turn the momentum back in their favor without Josh.

"I'm telling you this because…," Charlie began. "Marcy was pretty adamant that Josh shouldn't be alone. This thing sounds like, well, like it's as bad as it sounds or maybe worse. She just didn't know who to call because the only family he has here in DC is Donna."

"He has family here, Charlie," Bartlet said firmly.

"Yes, sir," Charlie nodded. "But Marcy's concern is that with everything that happened so far today that no one here really has the time to… sit with him. So she was wondering if Leo might know someone appropriate to call. She's doesn't think Josh should be alone."

"Get my wife on the phone, Charlie," Bartlet said.

"You want to send Abbey?" Leo asked. "She's in New York today."

"I know," the President replied. "I want her to get on the phone and find out what's going on. She's a doctor and she knows other doctors or at least how to translate what other doctors say. Charlie, Zoey's in the residence. Find her for me."

"Mr. President, don't ask Zoey," Leo said, believing this was a job for someone more emotionally mature than the President's youngest daughter. "Sir, let me call Mallory; her class is done for the day; I'm sure she'll be able to go."

"By all means call her, but Zoey will want to do this," Bartlet said. "Charlie, please."

"I'll take care of it, sir," Charlie replied then stepped out of the room to deal with his dual tasks.

The President sat in his chair and shook his head. Moments earlier he was ready to loudly and firmly fire which one of the Sam/Josh duo walked into the Oval Office first. Now, he found it difficult to muster the energy to even raise his voice beyond a normal speaking tone.

"That explains how we got tagged," Leo said. "We didn't even make it to the meeting. I don't think the Majority Leader knew about any of this. I think they just got lucky."

"Yeah," Bartlet remarked.

"On that subject, we still have a problem here," Leo said focusing on the news cycle and their now dead immigration bill.

"I know," Bartlet sighed. "Get Sam in here; if CJ needs more words, she can find Toby. I right now, I need to know where we stand. Then let's get the King of Jordan on the phone; he's next on our call list."

Leo nodded and turned to leave for his office.

"Oh, and Leo," the President called back to him as Charlie entered the room to signal the First Lady was holding on the phone. "You'll keep me informed on this other thing if either of you hear anything?"

"Yeah," Leo nodded.

**White House**

**Oval Office**

**8 p.m.**

"Dad," the President's youngest daughter said timidly as she entered the room.

"Zoey," he said warmly, standing from his place on the couch were he was reading Toby's latest thoughts on how the rest of the week should proceed regarding their legislative agenda. "The agents told me you got back an hour ago."

"I did," she nodded. "I just… I didn't feel like talking. Maybe I should wait until you're done here."

"No, come in, come in," he beckoned.

"I know you wanted to know what was happening, but I…" she began. "The news is saying they bombed the Beirut airport. They're not going to just stop, are they?"

"No one is taking their phone off the hook yet so there's still room for diplomacy," he assured her.

"The world just went to hell all over the place today, didn't it?" she said in a shaky voice.

"It's all right," he said as embraced her. "I've put my best people on everything today. I've been briefed about domestic and foreign policy in the last hour. You're the last one."

"Me?"

"I said I sent my best people for the biggest problems," he assured her with pride evident in his voice and gaze. "You did a very good thing today, honey. I'm sorry I had to ask you, but I didn't know where else to turn."

"It's all right, Dad," she assured him as she disentangled herself from his hug and sat on the sofa exhaustedly. "Josh isn't just someone who works for you. I consider him my friend."

"I know," Bartlet said taking a seat beside her. "How are you?"

"I forgot how tired someone else's pain can make you," she said. "Mallory came to the hospital, too. She was going to see if she could get Josh to go home, but I told her that won't work."

"I'm sure she knows that," Bartlet replied.

"He's going to stay there all night," Zoey said anxiously. "I'd stay with him, but I could tell he didn't want..."

"It's all right," Bartlet said earnestly. "You did a lot today by just being there for a while, and I'm sure Josh appreciates it even if he hasn't said so yet. Don't worry, sweetheart. We'll take care of him. The doctors will take care of Donna and her babies, and the rest of us will see that Josh is taken care of until this thing runs its course."

"Okay," she shrugged as tears dribbled out of her eyes. "He's just sitting there staring at the floor, Dad. I don't know what he's thinking, but I hurt—I actually hurt—just looking at him. I talked to Mom. She said all three of them, Donna and the babies, could die."

"Don't focus on the worst case scenarios," he comforted her. "She said it's possible, but the doctors are keeping a very close watch and are optimistic that Donna is going to pull through this. She's strong."

"Her babies aren't," Zoey sniffled. "The hospital doesn't think they'll make it—not both of them. When I was there, this person gave Josh all these papers and said someone would be in to talk to him. I looked at the papers, Dad. They're organ donation forms. If they're not strong enough to live on their own, how can anyone want to take their tiny organs give to someone else?"

Bartlet hugged her again as she began to weep uncontrollably. He regretted asking her to take this task today, but it was something he felt must be done. She was strong and she did have a connection to Josh. They were an obtuse pairing that, even in the chaos of the first Presidential campaign, found a way to be light-hearted pranksters to each other. Before Bartlet could remember his name even, he referred to Josh as "the one Zoey likes to bother." She was someone non-threatening who the President was certain would be able to sit by the man's side without pressing for conversation but remain there should such a thing suddenly be needed.

"I don't have an answer for that," Bartlet said wiping tears from her face. "Did the hospital send someone to explain it all to Josh?"

"He wouldn't let them," she said drawing a ragged breath. "The woman said he should read this packet, and he looked at it then handed it back instantly. The woman started to say something about organ donation, I guess, and Josh told her…. He said: _They're still using them_. Then he just went back to staring at the floor again."

Bartlet sighed. He felt a surge of anger that anyone would broach such a subject at a time such as this, yet he realized that if a decision like that was to be made, it needed to be done quickly in order to save other lives. Still, he believed that it was too much to ask any parent at a time such as this.

"They don't even have names," Zoey continued. "They weren't supposed to be born for nearly 10 more weeks. That paperwork needs to be done, too, but he can't because he and Donna hadn't made up their minds yet on what to name their babies. And he can't ask Donna because she's in a coma."

"She'll wake up," Bartlet said firmly. "It's from the blood loss. She didn't have a stroke, so that's one less hurdle for her. And she's breathing on her own. That's a very good sign. Her body had a very bad shock, and it's going to take a little while to recover from it, but she will."

"I don't even know if Josh knows I was there," Zoey said. "He barely looked at me when I got there and asked him if he needed anything. It was like he didn't recognize me."

"He's got a lot on his mind," the President said. "But Josh is strong, too. He has a lot of friends here to support him, and Donna is going to pull through this. They can help each through whatever comes next."

"So you think the babies are going to die?" Zoey remarked.

"I'm praying they don't," he said honestly.

**Communication's Bullpen**

**10:22 p.m.**

Toby wearily dropped his topcoat and his scarf onto the chair opposite his desk in the darkened office. Most of the staff had departed for the evening. With nothing more to do than vow to return to the fight the next day, they bid the day good riddance roughly an hour earlier. Toby had taken that opportunity to leave the office and drive to Georgetown. He felt he must and was now regretting the decision. He needed to focus on their strategy and couldn't have his mind wandering to things that had nothing to do with conniving congressmen and immigration issues.

"You just get back?" Leo asked, silhouetted in the door way.

"Yeah," Toby said turning on the small lamp on his desk. "They hit the airport twice?"

"Yeah," Leo nodded. "The Lebanese began repairing some runways so the Israelis flew back in and made a few more craters and took out the construction equipment."

"You have to admire their thoroughness," Toby sighed.

"Yeah," Leo replied. "The President's gone back to the residence for now. We'll see if there's any retaliation when the sun comes up there in a few hours. Anything new?

"Not medically speaking," Toby said dejectedly. "From what I gathered, that's both good and bad news. Any change in the children is not going to be good news at this point so the fact that they remain critical is a positive thing."

"What about Donna?" Leo asked.

"It seems should have woken up by now or showed some signs of waking up by now," Toby reported tightly. "At least, that's what I got from what the doctors weren't saying to Josh."

"Zoey said he's holding it together for the moment," Leo said.

"No, he's not," Toby contradicted and offered a nervous chuckle at the ability of Josh to convince anyone he was in a stable frame of mind at this point. "Leo, he can't hold it together because he has nothing. The man has nothing. He's absolutely shattered. If this thing goes completely sour, I don't see how he comes back from it. I don't know who could, but I think its asking too much of Josh—and that's saying something."

"He talked to you?" Leo asked.

"A little," Toby said with an eerie and pained chuckle.. "He asked about the meeting on the Hill. He asked me to follow up with Hodges and McTierney when we take a second whack at this tomorrow. The guy is sitting there waiting for a nurse to walk in and tell him part or all of his family is dead, and he's making sure I have an easier day of it tomorrow. He's right by the way. We should start with Hodges and McTierney. Probably Branson as well."

"You didn't you tell him about…," Leo began.

"I didn't have to," Toby replied. "Someone else in the room turned the TV to CNN. He saw the reports out of Haifa and Beirut. Leo, he wanted me to remind you that the Brazilian Ambassador to the UN was roommates at Stamford with the Lebanese Undersecretary of Trade and that their families are still good friends. I'm not sure why I'm supposed to tell you this or even if it's accurate."

"It is," Leo said as he nodded, grateful for the information.

"Why?" Toby asked mystified.

"Because the wife of the Brazilian Ambassador to the UN is Canadian by birth and one of her parents is an Israeli," Leo said, knowing which would prove useful when the talking started between nations again. He had forgotten about the connection in the confusion of the day. "Brazil can fly under the radar for us and be a conduit so that we can keep communication open between both sides without anyone losing face."

"Is it healthy to be on your game geopolitically when your entire personal life just took a header into the pavement?" Toby asked.

"He's coping," Leo said.

"And you see that as a good thing?" Toby replied. "It's his ability to cope that's done the most damage to him previously."

Toby paused then sighed. He wasn't sure what he was mad at precisely, but he knew yelling at Leo would not do any good, even if it made him feel better momentarily. He looked back at the Chief of Staff and saw understanding and patience rather than a rebuke.

"Leo, I have to be here tonight to finish the President's remarks for tomorrow," Toby said more calmly. "Sam and I and CJ will be here all night. Josh can't be left… I think it's a bad idea for him to be alone right now in case… whatever. When's his mother arriving?"

"Not until tomorrow morning," Leo replied. "It was the first available seat."

"Charlie offered to…," Toby began.

"Don't worry about it," Leo assured him as he turned to exit the room. "I want a plan on my desk by seven tomorrow morning to turn this immigration thing around; we move forward tomorrow."

**Hospital hallway**

**10:55 p.m.**

Leo entered the hallway and met his daughter walking toward the elevator. She greeted him with a blue expression and a simple hug. She sported a haggard expression as she explained Josh could be found in the private waiting room down the hall in the ICU.

"Thank you for doing this," Leo said gratefully.

"You've had quite a day yourself," Mallory replied. "How are you doing?"

"We're not beat yet," Leo said mildly. "We just got sucker punched in the first round on the Hill and things to the east have been quiet for a few hours sot that's good."

"And that's a good thing?" she asked skeptically.

"The pressure isn't rising right now," he said hopefully. "As for the other thing…We'll rally. Anything new here?"

"No," she shook her head. "I tried to get him to at least drink some coffee, but he just put it down."

"Anna Lyman's plane lands at 8 a.m." Leo told her. "Toby's going to get her from the National to here and then…"

"Sam called me," she cut him off. "He wanted to help, but he doesn't think Josh will want to see him, but I don't think Josh will notice who stops by. He's gone pretty deep into himself."

"Don't bet on it," Leo said. "He's no novice at this."

"I told him his mother was on her way, and he just nodded," Mallory said. "I wasn't sure he heard me or understood. I didn't want to push him. He had words with Donna's mother earlier."

"I know," Leo reported. "Sam called her, in case Josh hadn't. He talked to Donna's brother. I take it things got a little tense."

"Josh is not at his best," Mallory said. "Apparently, Donna's mother's reaction to hearing about Donna was to worry about how Donna's sister Frannie would take the news. That didn't sit well with Josh so he accused her of caring more about Frannie than Donna. I'm guessing something similar happened to Frannie before and she's a little unstable."

"Something like that," Leo said. "Donna's brother is smoothing things over. Mrs. Moss will be flying out here tomorrow as well."

"You're a good boss and a better friend, Dad," Mallory told him as she kissed his cheek.

"Good night, baby," Leo said. "Thank you."

Leo walked with a dour expression down the hall toward the small and quiet waiting room reserved for immediate family members of those in the critical care unit. He stepped into the room to see Josh precisely how Toby described him: absolutely shattered. He sat with his elbows on his knees and his eyes cast downward. He was very still, nearly motionless, which struck Leo as odd as still was not a trait he ever ascribed to his deputy.

"Josh?" Leo said as he approached and took a seat beside the man.

He turned his head after a moment, as if noticing his visitor for the first time. He eyes appeared bewildered and startled though he made very little movement with the rest of his body.

"Did State remember about the Brazi…," he began.

"They're on it," Leo said. "And thanks for the reminder."

"About the House, you have to make sure Toby talks to…," Josh began in a voice that sounded hoarse from stress and lack of use.

"It's under control," Leo reported in a calculating way. "We'll keep you up to date on both things. We'll need you in on all of this later."

Josh nodded. Leo reasoned the man needed to hear this if only to hang on to a modicum of normalcy in the current chaos. They would naturally not keep him up to date or call on him to help if at all possible. Considering the way he looked, Leo didn't think it advisable to have Josh working on anything more vital to the administration than tying his own shoes for the moment.

"You mother's flying in tomorrow morning," Leo said. "I've arranged to have her picked up at the airport and brought here."

"Shouldn't," Josh shook his head. "There's nothing she can do."

"She wants to be here," Leo told him. "Your mother is a strong and formidable lady. She does what she wants."

"Yeah," Josh nodded, hanging his head again.

"You need anything?" Leo asked.

"No," he replied shaking his head and closing his eyes.

Leo could sense the dark thoughts swirling in the man's brain. They were evident in the feeling of the room, the expression on his pale face and the tears that would not spill out of his eyes.

"You just gotta wait this thing out, kid," Leo said. "They're gonna be all right. All of 'em"

"You don't know that," Josh said quietly as his jaw quivered.

"No, I don't," Leo agreed. "But it's what I believe."

"How?" Josh asked mystified.

"Faith," Leo said firmly.

Josh turned his head to the side and fixed the man with a perplexed gaze.

"Israeli and Lebanon started shooting at each other today and haven't been convinced to stop," Josh said. "The House crushed our immigration bill and may have killed it until after the mid-terms which is going to lose us maybe two senate seats and four seats in the House, and you're going to sit there and tell me to have faith that everything will work out? I expect that from the President; not you."

"I like to keep people guessing," Leo shrugged. "Plus, I mean it."

Josh bowed his head again as he appeared to slip further into his inner hell.

"What good is faith?" he asked after a long moment of silence. "What the hell is it for?"

"For days like this," Leo said plainly as he placed a comforting hand on Josh's shoulder and settled in for his long night of waiting.

The minutes ticked by seemingly into eternity. At one point, one of the supervisory nurse's from the NICU entered the room and spoke with Josh about the children. She reported that both were in critical condition but were receiving intense care and would be monitored every moment without fail. She took her time explaining their condition, stating she knew the doctors had already briefed him, but she made it a point to go over the information with all parents in case there were additional questions after the doctors departed. Josh listened to her carefully, not recalling any doctor telling him the information she was imparting.

What she had to say was grim. Both babies had so-called wet lungs; the premature nature of their birth had interrupted the normal development of the organs. They were severely undersized and this posed difficulties with regulation in heart rates and body temperatures. They were struggling.

"And here's where the good news comes in," she said warmly, sitting very close to him, speaking to him confidently and quietly. "They have fight in them. It's always hard when they come early. It's always a battle. But not all preemies will fight. These two are. I won't lie to you; they're small and they've got a lot of hard hours ahead of them before we'll know anything for certain, but they're showing me a will to survive. They're not ready to give up so neither should you."

Josh said nothing. She then told him he could come to the unit and see them if he wished. He appeared startled by the prospect.

"It's all right if you can't bring yourself to do it this instant," the nurse said soothingly. "This is hard, but you might find that it's a good thing to see them, if only for a moment."

"Go," Leo said to him, with a firm nod. "I'll stay here and anything changes with Donna, I'll let you know."

Josh looked at him with a thankful gaze, but hesitated.

"Leo, you don't have to be here," Josh said.

"I know, but it's my choice and I choose to be here," he replied. "Go meet your kids. Tell 'em I said hang in there."

**Ronald Reagan National Airport**

**8:12 a.m.**

Toby waited at the bottom of the escalator, watching the faces arriving from the terminal. It did not take long to find his objective. She wore a stony expression and zeroed in on him instantly. She walked with a determined step down the moving stairs with her carry on clutched tightly in her hand.

"Mrs. Lyman," Toby said meeting her as she descended the escalator near the baggage return.

"Toby," she greeted him anxiously. "Please, I've told you before you may call me Anna."

"Of course," he nodded. "My assistant Ginger is going to get your bags an take them to Josh's house. I'm here to bring you to the hospital, if that's all right."

"Thank you," she said as he led her back toward the parking area. "Have you see Joshua today?"

"About an hour ago," Toby reported. "He stayed at the hospital in case Donna…"

"She hasn't woken up," Anna nodded as they trekked across the lot to Toby's car. She had received the same information when she called during her flight. She tried calling her son, but received no answer. She asked Toby about this and learned that he suspected Josh's phone was just not turned on.

"Leo sat with him last night?" she asked.

"Yeah," Toby nodded.

"He shouldn't have," Anna said. "Those idiots in the Middle East are going to start a war and we'll have to fix it. Leo should be on the phone with someone."

"I think that's the plan for today," Toby said, finding her curt assessment of the situation amusing and accurate if not fully informed.

"If he's going to be deciding the fate of the world, I would feel better knowing he'd had a good night's sleep," Anna replied.

"I'm sure he'll be at his best," Toby replied diplomatically.

"Was he with Joshua all night?" she asked with more concern for her son than Leo's rest.

"Yeah," Toy said as they arrived at his car and he unlocked the door. "I saw them for a few minutes around midnight. Leo was doing most of the talking—something story about a bar association dinner and a democratic caucus in the same hotel in New York a few years back. I didn't really understand what it was about."

"It was about Noah," Anna nodded and sighed. "Oh, god bless Leo McGarry."

"Ma'am?" Toby asked, holding open the passenger door of his car for her.

"I spoke to Leo last evening," she said as she took her seat. "He told me that he would stay with Joshua and that I shouldn't worry because he said he knew just what to say to him to get him through the night."

"Leo understands Josh and can deal with him when a lot of other people don't know how," Toby agreed.

"Toby, I don't always understand Joshua," Anna shook her head. "Leo is a wonder an da very smart man. He must have spent the night talking to Joshua about Noah, his father. They were friends for a long time and acts like this are a fair reminder of why. Noah thought the world of Leo."

"Leo feels the same way about Josh," Toby said kindly.

They drove most of the rest of the way to the hospital in silence. Toby wasn't sure what to say to the woman. She was not appearing weak or weepy and that bothered him. He could deal with someone needing sympathy or strength at a time like this. While he had no doubt that she could use both, she was a formidable woman who was showing amazing reserves of perseverance and inner calm.

They arrived at the hospital and Toby took her to the proper floor and directed her to the waiting room where Josh could be found. Toby did not stay. He allowed her to enter the room alone to give them some privacy. He gave her his cellphone number and permission to call should she need anything. He departed a moment later.

Anna took a deep breath then stepped into the room. Josh looked up instantly as she entered and appeared mystified for a moment at her appearance. She wondered for a moment if he did not recognize her, but she realized quickly it was merely because he was unaware that it was morning and the hellishly long night had indeed passed.

"Oh, Darling," Anna Lyman said as she entered the room and stepped quickly to her son's side to give him a hug. "I got here as soon as I could."

"You didn't have to come," he said, grateful for her presence all the same. "There's nothing you can do."

"Don't underestimate the power of any grandmother, Darling, but me in particular," she said firmly. "God owes me and I have no intention of letting Him forget that."

Josh chuckled unconsciously at her proclamation. It was out of character for her to say such a thing. She was not one who ascribed bad or tragic events to some supernatural being. She attended Temple regularly, but she was not a woman to blame god or praise him out loud for anything. She was reserved in her beliefs normally.

"God owes you?" Josh questioned the absurdity of the statement, finding it funnier than it probably was; he attributed this to his exhaustion. "You billing him or something?"

"If I have to," she said adamantly.

Up next: Chapter 23


	23. In Limbo

**Title:** Heaven and Hell (Chapter 23): **In Limbo**

**Author**: Enigmatic Ellie

**Email**: Here's something I don't usually do: give thanks to you. You are the most loyal readers in all of fanfiction. I know I don't publish often enough to satisfy you, but my lack of apparent dedication is not a reflection of the value I place on your kind words or your enthusiasm for this series and its predecessor. My constant excuse to you for my less than prompt publishing is accurate: Life intervenes. I also must confess that after 40-some chapters between this series and the last, burn out is always just around the corner. I'm fighting it and sometimes I lose a battle or two—but the difference between losing the battle and losing the war is vast. I haven't given up and I promise you that the story will be completed… eventually. Believe it or not, the final chapter was written 5 years ago and remains on my hard drive waiting for the chapters leading up to it to be published. So here is my promise: I'll hang in there with the writing if you continue to afford me your patience. All in favor say "Aye."

**Press Secretary's Office**

**Thursday, 7 a.m.**

It was a crisp morning with temperatures still hovering around freezing though the forecast called for the sun to peak from behind the clouds later in the day. February's chill was made all the more bleak by the gray flannel that had covered the sky for the last two weeks. The mood in the office, at least that around the operations bullpen, matched perfectly. With the staff in limbo over their failed push for immigration reform and the hurry-up and wait policy being employed as the Middle East got twitchy again, life in the West Wing was a grind so far this month. There was also a noticeable void in the staff with Josh absent and Donna's status still up in the air.

"Carol?" CJ called to her assistant from her desk. "The second half of these clips is in some foreign language."

"Is it one you can read?" Carol asked.

CJ stood and walked to the outer office. She held the pages up as she spoke.

"Let me rephrase," CJ said handing her the pages. "If that's any language at all, it's alien text."

Carol looked at the papers and saw that the hieroglyphics on the page did not resemble any language she knew or could recognize.

"I think my default fonts are screwed up," Carol apologized. "I dropped a file on the keyboard. It must have done something."

"Something indeed," CJ said. "Can I get these in modern, standard English?"

Carol nodded and trashed the useless copies. CJ was about to turn back to her office when she spied Josh coming down the hall. He looked exhausted and edgy—not an unusual appearance for him, but she was taken aback to see him at all.

"Hey," she called as she approached him. "What are you doing here? Is there any change?"

"Donna's mother is here and so is mine," he replied. "I don't see how three people standing in a room staring at someone in a perpetual sleep is helpful. I was at the hospital earlier."

"Meaning you were there all night again," CJ surmised.

"Yeah," he nodded. He stopped at home briefly to shower and change after his mother and mother-in-law (both currently staying somewhere in his house though he only knew that from the note his mother left for him) arrived at the hospital for the day.

"How is... everyone?" CJ asked. She had not been able to stop by the hospital yet. She was receiving her updates from Toby. Thus far, the news was as depressing as the weather outside.

"Nothing's changed," he reported in clipped fashion.

"Have you slept?" she asked.

"Before yes, recently no," he replied. "Look, I was coming to see you. I need your office to screen interview requests this week for some of the Operations staff."

"Okay, for who?"

"For whom," he corrected her.

"Alright, for whom," she continued ignoring his tone.

"Me," he replied. "Marcy's inclination apparently is to say no to everyone this week and while I applaud the effort, I don't have time to convince her of the proper vetting process right now. She apparently has some vendetta against the media which I'm sure is richly deserved though I don't care to know its root. If you could just…"

"Consider it done," CJ assured him then turned to signal Carol who gave a hand signal that she was appropriately eaves dropping. "Is there anything that you specifically don't want or should just postpone rather than decline entirely?"

"Immigration stuff can go to Sam," Josh replied. "The energy bill stuff should be postponed for a few more days—I'm meeting with Leo about that in five minutes. Anything about the crime bill should just be ignored and I don't care who wants a quote from my office about the school shootings; they're not getting one."

"I've been taking care of the White House's response from the podium," CJ offered.

"Well, I got three requests from your press pool for a quote for me specifically about gun control policy in the wake of the shootings," Josh said tensely. "Do they honestly think I have anything new to add about how horrible it is for kids to die before their time? Or that I have anything new to say about gun violence?"

"I'll take care of it," CJ said quickly. "Who was it?"

"It doesn't matter who it was, just get them all the hell away from me with that right now," Josh snapped and walked toward Leo's office.

"Josh?" CJ called to him. He turned to look at her. "If there's anything you need…"

"A responsible Congress to pass our Energy Bill and to stop stomping on our Immigration Reform Bill would be nice, other wise…," he said with a shrug as he turned away again and continued to the Chief of Staff's Office.

He continued down the hall and to the right where he entered Margaret's area. She was absent so Josh poked his head into Leo's office with a curt rap on the door casing. The Chief of Staff was seated behind his desk with his reading glasses perched on his nose. He looked up at the knocking.

"I heard you were here," Leo said. "Anything new?"

"No," Josh said quickly. "I can't just sit there and wait. It's driving me nuts."

"Can you sit here and work without me feeling like you need a babysitter?" Leo asked.

"Do you usually feel that way?" Josh asked.

"There are days," Leo offered. "I'm going to ask Sam to staff the President today. Toby did yesterday, but two days in a row will make him needlessly cranky."

"Toby or the President?" Josh asked. Leo gave him a dubious look that was all the answer he needed. Josh knew Toby had a way of getting under the President's skin, but asking the question and prompting Leo's reaction was the most normal thing he had experienced in the last three days. "Don't bother Sam. I can do it."

"No, your head isn't in the game," Leo shook his head.

"I can do it, Leo," Josh insisted. "I've been reading briefing books for the last two days. I've stayed awake longer and been in on more important meetings than what's on the schedule. I can do this."

"You sure?" Leo asked. Josh nodded. "Well, that helps. The leadership is waxing poetic about the outcome of the meetings in Tele Aviv last year. State doesn't want to make waves and vice chair for foreign relations has either developed a case of stage fright or thinks his re-election bid is locked up because he's not saying much of anything. You were a part of that trip. The President wants to hear from you and we still need to make some headway on the Energy Bill. The Congressman Tillson is coming down here today."

"Okay," Josh nodded.

"But only if you're really here," Leo said. "I mean it, don't sweat this right now. If you have to be or want to be some place else, we can run without you just fine."

"They can run without me just fine at the hospital," Josh said as he stood and prepared to leave the room. "From what the Times editorial said this morning, I'm needed here; the White House needs all the help it can get this week."

"The White House needs all the help it can get any week," Leo offered. "Wait. Look at me."

Josh turned with a questioning look at the Chief of Staff.

"I didn't ask because I thought I'd know but I'm asking," Leo said. "Give me an honest answer: How are you?"

Josh opened his mouth to offer the perfunctory answer that he was giving his mother and anyone else who asked, but stopped. Leo's stern expression told him to consider the answer before giving it. Only one other person had pressed him for a real answer: Danny Concannon. The reporter had appeared unexpectedly at the hospital the previous night with flowers for Donna and a thermos of coffee for Josh. The discussion convinced Josh that returning to the office was a good idea. Not that Danny was wearing his reporter's hat or that he imparted dire news of the void left by Josh's absence. He merely did what he and Josh did whenever the spoke off the record: talked about the world and life at large. The real world was moving forward and Josh realized that nothing he did during his hours and hours of waiting in silence helped his family any.

"Danny Concannon, asked me that last night," Josh said as he leaned forward on the back of the chair in front of him. "What was it you told me I was once?"

"Neurotic?" Leo offered.

"No," Josh chuckled, though he had no doubt Leo did think that. "A compulsive fixer?"

"Oh yeah," Leo nodded. "That, too."

"It's hard enough when you have things you can do or think you can do to help," Josh said. "And when you can't because there's nothing…"

"I know," Leo said understandingly. "You want to crawl out of your skin."

"I have no one to hate, no one to blame and no one to turn to for answers," Josh said in solemn tones. "There's nothing I can say, no one I can influence, no one I can beat into submission. I don't… I'm lost."

"Fair enough," Leo nodded, accepting the answer and feeling that despite his deputy's current internal woes he was fit to be working. "If you feel like you need to beg off, say the word."

"What word?" Josh said and offered a weak grin. Say the words enough or I quit to Leo simply were not possible in his mind. Those possibilities didn't exist. "What was it you said the other night? Have faith?"

Leo nodded again then settled back into the work on his desk.

"The President will be in the Oval in 10 minutes," Leo said. "Don't make him crazy."

"Yes, sir."

**Roosevelt Room, 5:56 p.m.**

Josh, the President and several members of the legislative liaison team were in the meeting room with House Republicans about the still nebulous Energy Bill. It had been a long day with various meetings with the Middle East Advisors, economic team and the quashing of a minor schism at the Agriculture Department about continued subsidies. By the time the visitors from the Hill arrived, Josh was in a fog physically as two days of no sleep was taking its toll. Even though he was glad for the distraction the office provided, there was only so much patience he could muster when the bluster in the room got to a critical level. The meeting with the congressmen and the President had dragged on for the better part of 45 minutes when Josh's tolerance reached its end.

"Congressman," Josh cut the man off. "With all due respect, this is bigger than just your mid-term election fear button issue. Yeah, Iran is a problem. Everyone sees that. But if you want to seriously discuss the real threats our dependence on foreign oil creates, shouldn't we concern ourselves with Russia, too? After all, we know they have nuclear capability. We spent most of my lifetime trying to dial them back from it."

"And you accuse me of pushing the fear button," Republican Representative Roger Tillson of Ohio sneered. "You want to start the Cold War again? Are the Democrats polling numbers so low and their counsel so inept that they need to reach back that far into the nostalgia file? You do recall that Communism fell, don't you Josh?"

"I recall that in the 1990s Russia needed our money when their government collapsed so they did everything we asked and started embracing our western approach to governing and our thoughts on individual rights," Josh replied hotly. "They've got their own oil reserves, Congressman. They're under those placed that used to house the gulags. They don't need to import foreign oil—they've got a dearth of it. In fact, they can export it and make a profit without gauging into their vast reserves. So business is pretty good for them right now; financially, they're on track and so they need us a hell of a lot less than they did before. They don't need to humor us or their creditors any longer to keep out of the red. So let's put it all on the table. The longer the oil business is booming, the less I can't think of any incentive Russia has to continue to uphold the open and peaceful relationship it's had with the west over the last 15 years. They haven't pushed us in years, but there's really nothing to stop them now. They play better with China than we do, so we might want to keep that in mind as well."

"I'm talking about the Middle East, Josh," Tillson said, his face reddening with the schooling.

"I'm talking about an energy policy that your party has fused to foreign oil," Josh said. "Congressman, we are one rogue and sandy state having a bad day away from a global economic crisis that is going to impact our national security on more fronts than just our shaky toe hold in the Middle East. Or do you still think the Saudis love us like their favorite cousin?"

"You'd be wise not to treat me like a school child who didn't do his homework, Josh," Tillson said, turning away from Josh. "Mr. President, calling oil companies petro-bullies is an election year tactic. And all the name calling in the world doesn't change the fact that we are an oil consuming nation. We agree that we should be less-dependant on foreign oil, but it is our interconnection with those countries who have our oil that…"

"It's not our oil, Roger," Bartlet cut in with a perturbed sigh and tone to match. "You and I have been having this same discussion since I was in Congress with you. It's not our oil. We can sit here and talk about elections and the price at the pump and the cost to heat our homes. Then throw our hands up in the air for the sake of cameras so that the American public believes find that there is no middle ground between us while we just scurry to not offend our financial backers. But it keeps this nation in limbo and standing still simply isn't an option any more—we both know that. You want to blame Israel or Syria or Iran or whoever. Fine. There's plenty of criticism to go around. But if you want to talk about the real impact of our need dependence on that region's chief export, then you'd better be prepared to address the concerns Josh raised. Its past time that this government, both parties, have a frank and honest discussion with itself and it's constituents about the full geo-political impact that our addiction to hydrocarbons will have on this nation for generations to come. Don't dismiss this White House's attempt to start that discussion as merely a mid-term scare tactic for political purposes, Roger. This issue doesn't just come up every two or four years."

"No, that's gay marriage and flag burning," Josh said and earned a quick cut of the eyes from Bartlet.

"This issue has been with us in a tangible and definable way since the 1970s, and it has been an appalling disservice to the American people that it is used only as an election year tactic," Bartlet said. "Globe warming is a problem now. Escalating tensions in the Middle East are a problem now. The ability for even our allies to exert influence that at the very least gives us heart burn exists now. The domestic impact these skyrocketing prices cause are a problem for the average American now. We're sending our Energy Bill to the Hill in June. I suggest you get together with your people and come up with a better compromise for a carbon tax than bonuses, exemptions and other tax breaks for your friends in the oil lobby."

The President stood up and left the room without another word. The congressmen present stared at Josh with self-satisfaction and smirks.

"Flushing your chances to retake the House or the Senate is an interesting way to build a legacy," Tillson chuckled in a superior fashion as he gathered his papers. "No one proposes an increased gas tax 10 months before a midterm election."

"They do if they are fulfilling the obligations of their office rather than just trying to stay employed," Josh said as he closed his folder and prepared to leave. "It's called it leadership."

Josh turned his back on the visitors and walked quickly to the Oval Office. He followed Bartlet back into the room with the hope that this was the end of their day's session.

"I heard that, you know," Bartlet said as Josh entered the room. "That last part about leadership. You know what galls me most about that?"

"Galls you?" Josh asked, wondering what in the statement could have upset the President.

"Yeah, do you know what galls me about what you just said?" Bartlet asked again.

"No."

"I should have said it," Bartlet nodded.

"Feel free to steal it, sir," Josh said, relieved the man was not angry as Josh initially worried. "I'm sure someone said it long before I did."

"Probably not in that room to that ensemble," Bartlet offered.

"Tillson's been around for an eon," Josh shrugged and stifled a yawn. "There's a chance President Truman might said it to him."

"Fair point," Bartlet said as he settled into the sofa and gestured to the chair beside him. "Sit."

Josh did as he was instructed. It had been a long day full of seemingly endless meetings. He felt mildly guilty that he hadn't checked in with the hospital more than once, but he figured if there was any news, they would contact him. His mother was there and she would have raised any alarms or come rushing to the building with good news if there was any. The lack of any contact was disheartening and only made the day seem longer. It would be another long and quiet night of sitting as well.

He had seen the babies twice. The first time he was ashamed of himself for the recoiling feeling he felt in his stomach as he looked upon them for the first time. It was a harsh and depressing sight. To call them tiny was an understatement and to watch them struggle with each labored and assisted breath was devastating. The second time was slightly easier but only because he knew what to expect. He didn't wonder the things about them that he had prior to their premature arrival: What color will their eyes be? What color will their hair be? Will she have Donna's nose or mine? Will he look like that baby picture my father kept of me on his desk at his office?

His questions and wonderings now were: Can they survive? Does this hurt? Is there any chance one or both of them can pull through this without massive medical issues for a life time? What will go wrong next?

Bartlet appeared to be reading Josh's mind for a thoughtful expression overtook his face and his tone was gentle and comforting as he spoke.

"What are the doctors telling you?" Bartlet asked.

Answering the President wasn't as difficult as answering co-workers though Josh wasn't sure why. He suspected it was because he was used to briefing the man about subjects great and small and of as much consequence. He repeated what the doctors had told him about both Donna's and the children's conditions and the prognosis for each. For having little to say, Josh found it took quite some time to explain.

"You can't give up, Josh," Bartlet said compassionately. "I know how hard that must be, but this is one of those times. You have to be stubborn and refuse to give in or give up to hopelessness. I know things went a little haywire here earlier in the week, and I won't lie to you. I wanted your head on a pike, but I understand. There's probably not much you could have done even if you'd been around for that damn session on the Hill. You have an awful difficult juggling act ahead of you. We need you and they need you. You need to be honest with Leo and not worry about pleasing him or getting one up on the likes of Tillson or whoever you want to grind into little bits up the road. When you are here, you need to be only here. When you are there, you can't let anything about this place cloud your mind."

"If this is about the flag burning comment….," Josh began but Bartlet cut him off with a soft chuckle and patted him on the arm.

"It was as inappropriate as it was true," the President said. "I didn't mind it, though don't make it a habit of cutting me off in mid-sentence for your funny-funny one-liners. Least you forget who the star attraction is here in this building."

"You don't mean Leo, right?" Josh offered and received the expected shake of the head with accompanying chuckle from the man then offered his sincere apology. "My apologies, Mr. President. It won't happen again."

"You made good points in there," Bartlet said as he stood and returned to his desk. "You took Tillson was off his game. He didn't expect to see you in the meeting and then thought he could score some points with his entourage by taking the wind out of your sails on your home turf."

"I think you're mixing metaphors, sir," Josh said.

"Get out of my White House, Josh," Bartlet said. "Go see your wife and children."

"Yes, sir," Josh nodded. "Thank you, Mr. President.

Josh left the room and passed by Charlie's desk. The aide nodded to him and offered a solemn expression. The office's other occupant, the President's executive secretary, patted his arm and murmured a quiet "hang in there." Debbie then took her seat again as Josh left.

"That has to be so hard," she said to Charlie. "The not knowing. Its like being stuck in neutral and knowing you could end up barreling down hill so fast you won't be able to hit the brakes in time."

"Yeah," Charlie replied. "Zoey said things don't look good for the babies. She said the doctors are confident Donna will recover, but the babies are so early and small that…"

"Miracles happen and when you mix a miracle with medical science…," she began.

"You usually get restrictive and prohibitive legislation—particularly in a midterm election year," Sam said as he appeared in the door way. "Charlie, can you see that the President gets this draft. It's our first stab at the Trade Union remarks. He wanted to see all the major drafts and I believe the first one meets that criteria."

"Sure," Charlie nodded then took the speech in hand and stepped into the Oval to deliver it.

"A bit early in the evening for you to be cynical, isn't it, Sam?" Debbie asked as Sam leaned on Charlie's desk.

"It's been a long week," Sam sighed. "Did Josh just leave?"

"He's finished with the President," Debbie said. "Are you two still not talking?"

"No," Sam said. "And by that I mean, we haven't spoken since Tuesday morning, but he's had other things on his mind so I don't think he's not '_not'_ talking to me. I didn't go to the hospital, but I didn't think I should. Mallory said it's probably good that I didn't. I mean, she said he's not talkative or in the mood to see anyone when he's there."

"Especially his mother-in-law," Debbie replied.

"That was the heat of the moment," Sam explained. "I talked to Donna's brother and he said Josh should just forget about it. Donna's mother isn't one to hold grudges and she felt pretty bad about her initial reaction."

"I don't know," Debbie disagreed. "Mothers-in-law are vicious creatures that should not be underestimated for their wickedness in family politics or their desire to ruin your Thanksgiving Dinner just to prove that she's a better cook than you are and that maybe you had too much wine while waiting for the potatoes to be fully cooked."

"Okay," Sam nodded. "Well, that answers my next question for why did you get divorced."

"Oh, no, not because of my mother-in-law directly," Debbie answered. "It's just that it turns out that my mother-in-law's son was a worthless waste of space after he decided that he needed a 26-year-old bimbo to keep him busy during his long lunch hours."

"Right," Sam nodded. "Okay, so that's more than I planned on hearing. Thank you. It's always disturbing to speak to you for any length of time, Debbie."

**Deputy Chief of Staff's Office**

**11:30 p.m., Friday**

Toby wandered the hallways with his notebook in hand. He was searching for the right inspiration for the closing to the President's scheduled speech to the trade unions in California on Monday. With the immigration bill in tatters, but not as dead as the GOP hoped thanks to some backroom acrobatics by several senior congressmen not up for re-election in the next cycle and a lot of coaxing and prodding from the White House, Toby's suggestion to the President was to use the speech as a spring board. Treat the California trip like a blank canvas and begin painting the picture of US security and immigration policy he wanted before Congress and ignore the commentators taking shots on the fiasco that unfolded earlier in the week.

Toby chuckled as he recalled who had made this seemingly naïve leap possible: Hezbollah. The gun-toting, Israel-hating, terrorist-leaning, Iranian-backed militant group had stolen the headlines from domestic issues and made backroom dealing less tricky. With the recently broker cease fire still holding, the White House was able to focus on the immigration issue again.

The irony of the Jewish speech writer thanking a God he wasn't always sure he believed in for the people, like the masked thugs who wanted to destroy Israel, was not lost on Toby. He was, however, not finding many others who could see the humor in it. Sam smiled sickly at the notion then quickly changed the subject. CJ threatened him with bodily harm if he should even think about the remark in his head within 20 feet of the Press Room. Leo would have found it funny if he would permit himself to find anything humorous this week, but there wasn't time. Normally, Toby could have counted on Josh to have made the accurate if inappropriate quip of the circumstances during their morning staff meeting, but he hadn't been present. He arrived at the office late because he had a meeting with the specialists overseeing his children's care. He was at the office later but from the hollow look in his eyes, he didn't have the strength to find anything humorous still.

So with no one to laugh at his joke, Toby found himself wandering the halls late in the evening in search of inspiration that was less personal. He also felt compelled to answer to an inquiry he felt duty bound to make. He had been looking at his email just several minutes earlier and found a message in the inbox that puzzled him—not so much for what it said as for the very fact that it was there and the timestamp on it. He walked to Josh's office to find a light shining in there.

Toby entered from the side door to find an unexpected figure at the desk reading a file.

"Josh?"

"Yeah," he answered without looking up.

"Josh," Toby addressed him louder, causing the other man to finally look up.

"Toby?" Josh questioned.

"Yeah," the Communications Direct nodded. "What…. It's late. I thought you left hours ago. What are you doing here?"

"Reading."

"I see," Toby nodded. "Is Donna… better?"

"No."

"So why are you here?"

"She still didn't wake up," he said distantly rather than answer the question.

"Yeah, you said that," Toby said calmly. "What's going on?"

"They said she wake up," Josh continued. "They said she probably would, I mean. That's what happens most of the time. Within 24 hours, after their blood pressure is stabilized, people in this kind of … you know…."

"Coma," Toby offered in his lengthened pause.

"Yeah," Josh nodded. "But that 24 hours was over more than 48 hours ago. They usually wake up by now. But she didn't."

"How long have you been here?"

"Not long," Josh said though he had no idea. He had been on the same page the entire time, but he was sure he had read the same paragraph at least eight times though he could not remember what it said. "Patricia… Donna's mother. She said to leave. She said I should go home tonight. So did my mom. They're staying with her and the… babies."

"Josh, this isn't home," Toby informed him.

"I know," he answered. "I can't go there."

"Why not?" Toby asked skeptically.

Josh thought back to the little bit of time he had spent in the home. He wandered from room to room for a while downstairs but found he was getting agitated. He went upstairs with the thought that he would try to sleep, but an open door caught his attention. He stood in the doorway to the nursery and stared at the walls. Donna had done a great deal of work on the room before the holidays. The furniture was in place and there was a rocking chair in the corner waiting to be called into service. There were two boxes on the changing table. Each held a mobile to hang over the cribs. Donna insisted the room had needed a theme and gone with a cute and fuzzy rendition of the Noah's Ark scheme. The mobiles were tiny animals to float over the cribs and lull the children to sleep with a soft and soothing tune. Except they remained in the boxes disassembled.

It was the stillness of that room and the lack of occupants which made the air of the home feel oppressive. Josh knew he couldn't be there. So he went to the one place lately where he knew he could breathe.

"I went there, but it's too quiet," he shook his head defiantly seeing no need to give Toby the specific reasons. "There's… no one there. I was walking around with no idea what to do."

"Yeah."

"Everything is just there and she left it like…," Josh started then paused. "I noticed that she never turned on her alarm for work the other day. She always did that after it went off only she didn't the last time and it's too quiet any way so…."

"She'll be fine," Toby said earnestly.

"How do you know that?" he asked in an innocent yet skeptical fashion.

"I… uh, I don't," Toby confessed as he looked down and scuffed his foot on the carpet guiltly.

"Okay," Josh accepted the answer. "It's okay, Toby. No one has any better answers for me. No one can explain why."

Toby stood uncomfortably for several moments fixed on Josh's nearly vacant gaze. Some part of him was still thinking and reasoning and searching for answers. Another part of him had retreated and was not functioning on any discernable level. Toby felt that to leave him unattended like this was the same as leaving a toddler alone to cross the streets around Dupont Circle during evening rush hour. He considered his options and was coming up short when the First Lady appeared in the doorway.

"Toby," Abbey said warmly. "The guards said you were still here. I've been looking for you."

"Yes, ma'am," he said then looked toward the other occupant in the office. "I found Josh here."

"I see that," she nodded. "Josh."

"Ma'am," he replied absentmindedly without standing or looking at her.

"Uh, ma'am," Toby said difficultly. "I think maybe we need some…. Josh is…. I'm sort of out of my depth here. I…"

"You're fine," she said, touching him on the arm as she approached the desk. "Josh, how's Donna?"

"Same," he said. "You know, they said 90 percent of those who are going to wake up do so within 24 hours. It was 24 hours about 20 hour ago."

"It's not an exact science," she said.

"It's medicine!" he seethed and pounded his fist on his desk. "It's supposed to be science!"

"Josh," Toby barked.

"It's all right, Toby," Abbey said confidently. "Josh, I meant that a coma isn't a precise thing. These things take time."

"Great," Josh scoffed. "Well, that explains everything."

"How are the children?"

"They breathe through tubes," he said coldly. "I can't even see them."

"They won't let you see them?" Toby asked in an alarmed tone.

"No, that's not what I meant," Josh said shaking his head. "I can be in the room for a few minutes, but I can't actually see them. It's all tubes and tape and needles. They don't look human; they look like a pile of junk someone is going to throw away."

"Don't say that," Abbey ordered firmly.

"It's how they look," Josh replied.

"Well, it's not how you have to think," she argued.

"Get off my back, Abbey," he snapped. "Don't tell me what I think. I think it's the most amazing thing I've ever seen that they are alive at all. I think that they're suffering and that no one can help them enough to make it all better quickly. I think that there is nothing I can do but stand there and ask myself questions no one has an answer to. I think that their mother should be with them right now. I think looking on the bright side and making sure I only say pretty things that it don't make other people uncomfortable is asking too much right now. That's what I think!"

A chilly silence filled the darkened office for several minutes. Josh stared at his hands. The First Lady fixed him with a stern but understanding expression. Toby, more uncomfortable than either of them, suddenly cleared his throat.

"Do they have names?" he asked.

"I'm sorry?" Josh responded plainly as though he hadn't just unleashed a verbal barrage.

"Do you have names for them?" he asked, feeling the question was more morbid than he first thought. "The babies?"

"He has a name," Josh said with a tightened throat. "Donna agreed months ago to it."

"You named him after your father," Toby surmised; it wasn't rocket science.

"Yeah," Josh said, staring across the room at his father's picture missing and needing him then perhaps more than any other moment in his life.

"And the girl?" Toby continued. "I mean, your daughter. What's her name?"

"I don't know," Josh answered desolately.

"What do you mean?" Abbey asked.

"Donna hadn't decided," Josh said softly. "That one was hers. She was going to tell me her three choices on Friday. Donna never had Friday so she never told me. She doesn't have a name yet."

"Josh, do you want to go home?" Abbey asked.

"He said that there's no one there and it's too quiet," Toby said with an expression that let her know he had covered this territory.

"I see," she replied. "Your mother's at the hospital?"

"Yes," he said.

"Ma'am," Toby signaled to the First Lady to step aside with him.

Josh did not seem to notice. He stared at the wall in silence as they stepped closer to the door for a private conversation.

"He had words with Donna's mother a few days ago," Toby said. "I think Anna Lyman is trying to comfort Donna's mother about it and hold things together there so that Josh will try to get some sleep. Right now, I don't see how that's possible or likely."

"His instinct is to fight but this battle isn't his," she said. "So I imagine he's come back here looking for some semblance of normal to feel like he has control over things."

"Yes and no," Toby sighed. "He does have control over things, but I don't know for how long and I don't think we should find out."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I came by here because I got an email," Toby explained. "It was about a memo that concerned us issued by Ways and Means. I thought it was strange how it just popped up. I wasn't aware Josh had read it yet. Then I saw he had just sent the message so I read it. It concerned me so I came here and found him."

"Who did he send it to?" she asked with great concern. Politics were entirely too fickle in her opinion.

"Just me and a copy to Leo," Toby assured her. "But it wouldn't matter if he had sent it to everyone on the Senior Staff."

"I don't understand."

"It's fine," Toby said. "It's reasonable and rational. It's precisely what I was going to tell Leo we should do. Josh is functioning on some level here. He can think and craft strategy."

"That's because he's so scared and thinks he's got nothing left but the little control he has here," Abbey stated.

"I know," Toby said. "That's what worries me. I mean, if he's not here, where will he be?"

"Toby, he can't stay here," Abbey said. "He needs to rest. At the very least, he needs to not be here reading briefing memos. This is happening to him and he needs to deal with it and take care of himself."

"I think he is, the only way he knows how," Toby explained. "Mrs. Bartlet, I meant what I said when you came in. I'm out of my depth."

She nodded and took his meaning this time. She touched him on the arm briefly before going to Donna's empty desk to make a call.

"Ma'am, who are you calling?" Toby asked.

"Mother's have their own language and network of operatives," Abbey said. "I'll need you to stick around for a few minutes while I make some calls."

Toby nodded then stood in the doorway, between the lighted hall and the dark cavern of Josh's office. He listened to the First Lady for several minutes and followed the gist of her conversations. He didn't think the plan they were hatching was right, but it was what needed to be done.

**Lyman House**

**45 minutes later**

Toby followed Josh into the house. He had convinced him he needed to discuss the Ways and Means memo outside the office. Josh did not want to go to his house, but Toby asserted that just going there for an hour would be fine and would get the First Lady to stop asking him questions. It was the prospect of freedom from Abbey that finally swayed him.

Toby offered himself a drink. Josh said nothing as he poured.

"You want one?" Toby asked.

"No," he said listlessly. He was already numb and didn't feel like relaxing; doing so seemed inappropriate and he worried either the house phone or his cell phone might ring any second with a call from the hospital.

He sat on the sofa across from the chair staked out by Toby. There were two folders and a handful of papers on the coffee table that Toby had placed there. Josh was satisfied this was at least to be a real discussion. He knew he could focus somewhat on that. He didn't think Toby truly valued his input and had agreed to this only to placate the First Lady. Still, it was a momentary diversion and he did have some thoughts on the troubling Ways and Means memo.

"Here," Toby said, handing him a tumbler with liquid in it.

"I said I didn't want a drink," Josh replied.

"No," Toby lied convincingly. "You said you did."

"I did?"

"Yeah," Toby replied.

He then sat opposite him and began to shuffle the papers and talk in general terms about the merits of the memo. He continued on for nearly 15 minutes without a break before he saw Josh begin to grow agitated. He eventually took up his glass and took a sip. He grimaced instantly after taking a healthy swig.

"What the hell is wrong with this?" he asked instantly, putting the glass down and making a sour face.

"You taste that, too?" Toby asked.

His tasted fine. Josh's was barely a splash of Dewer's, more water and the remnants of a sleeping pill supplied by a colleague of Josh's who Toby did not know until some 30 minutes earlier. Toby was hesitant to slip his friend the Mickey, but was assured by the First Lady that what he was doing would not kill or harm Josh though it was arguably unethical. He had been told by two doctors now that the concoction of the drug and a small amount of alcohol would not be dangerous. In fact, he was assured it was safe and would work quite quickly if dispensed in this manner.

"What the hell is it?" Josh asked again after several minutes as he began rubbing his eyes.

"I don't know," Toby said, holding up his glass to survey it. "There were spots on the glasses. Mine tastes like soap. Do you folks not rinse dishes?"

"What?" Josh asked. His head felt heavy and his vision was blurry.

"See, here's what I think," Toby said, sipping at his glass again. "It think it's soap. The spots, I mean."

"What are you talking about?" Josh said, taking his head in his hands as the world started to slip out of focus.

"A lot of things and right now I'm going to tell you that the Yankees are the superior baseball team in New York," Toby continued, enjoying the time he would not have to engage in debate. "Also, let me state emphatically that New York City is a more culturally diverse and worthy place than all of Connecticut—much can be said for the people from there. I'd also like to take this opportunity to say that the New York City Community College system has turned out some stellar graduates and that the Ivy Leagues, while impressive on some level, don't have a monopoly on gifted and talented alumni. And finally, I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't want to hear that in any other state so I wanted until the last possible minute so we both can deny it later; still, I wanted to say it so this is my only chance. I'm sorry for all of this—for what is happening to you and your family and I'm sorry for what I've just done. Please believe me that it was done out of friendship and concern."

Josh was now holding his head fully and leaning forward. Toby caught his shoulder and pushed him backward slightly so that he was resting on the couch. For his own piece of mind, he placed two fingers on Josh's wrist. The pulse was there, steady and strong. He patted Josh's shoulder and grabbed a blanket from the back of a nearby chair to drape over him.

Toby grabbed his cellphone and dialed the number he was given when he received the pill. He spoke a few words of acknowledgement then terminated the call. He sat on the chair opposite the sofa an spoke several find words while he waited for the visitor.

"I also wanted to say that I prayed for you all at Temple this morning, all of you," Toby confessed awkwardly though he knew the man could no longer hear him. "I guess I sort of retained myself as your counsel with the Almighty, and the way I see it, you've all earned better than what you've been dealt this week. I can't say my prayers worked and I probably am not the right guy for the job; I don't know that God listens to me, but for what it's worth, I think I made a hell of an argument."

Toby sat in silence for several more long minutes until he heard a car door shut in the driveway. He went to the front door and greeted the man who had arrived. Isaac Miller stepped over the threshold with a tired expression.

"He took it?" Miller asked.

"I did as I was told," Toby replied. "You're sure it won't kill him?"

"I can't absolutely guarantee it, but I'd gamble my own life that it won't," Miller replied.

"What kind of doctor are you again?"

"Oral surgeon," Miller replied.

"You're a dentist," Toby nodded. "I feel so much better."

"I went to medical school," Miller assured him.

"I watched ER once," Toby replied. "It doesn't make me qualified to treat a trauma patient."

"I see why Josh likes you," Miller replied. "You're cold and abrasive. People like you make him look approachable and polished."

"So you're a good friend of his," Toby surmised.

"Best friends from age six until he called me a jackass the week before my wedding and refused to be my best man," Miller replied.

"You're wife must think he's a gem," Toby nodded.

"Actually, she's my ex-wife and she agrees with Josh's opinion of me, but she never did like Josh so she's torn about agreeing with anything he ever said or did," Miller replied.

"His opinion?" Toby replied. "You mean he still thinks you're a…"

"Now he thinks I'm just a selfish, rude and ungrateful bastard," Miller said. "Not sure if that's better or worse than a jackass, but Donna said he's warming to me again. Maybe that's the bliss of fatherhood smoothing his rough edges."

"You spoke to Donna?" Toby asked in surprise.

"A week ago," Miller informed him. "I was at the hospital with Josh's mother when I agreed to help here. Donna had a surprise planned for Josh this week. I was going to be on town so she was going to arrange dinner for the three of us; she wanted to finally bury the hatchet between us. I didn't know what had happened until I spoke with Anna this morning."

Toby nodded. He wasn't sure he trusted this man but with no other options the mysterious drug dealing dentist was the only help Toby could find. He led the man through the house to the kitchen, passing Josh and paying him no mind as they did. Miller continued to assure Toby that the sleeping pill was not dangerous nor was administering it the way he had wrong at this time.

"The Hippocratic Oath we take states: First, do no harm," Miller said.

"I took a different oath and I notice you're not the one who drugged your good friend into unconsciousness," Toby sighed. "If you're wrong and he, you know, dies or anything…."

"I'll need a good lawyer, gotcha," Miller replied unconcerned. "You're a lawyer, right?"

"I guarantee you that I will represent you and you will get the death penalty," Toby stated.

"You believe in the death penalty?" Miller asked.

"No," Toby replied.

"Do they even have the death penalty in DC?"

"No, but that's the kind of lawyer you'll have," Toby replied, making his point with a glare.

"I'll look after him like he was my own brother," Miller promised. "Mr. Ziegler, I owe Josh's family a debt that cannot be repaid, but that doesn't mean I ever stopped trying. I promised his mother I would do this, and she is satisfied that I am suitable to Joshua-sit for the evening. Is that a solid enough reference for you?"

"Does she know you slipped him a Mickey?"

"Actually, I didn't—you did," Miller said with a slightly devious grin. "Look, I didn't see any reason to trouble her with finer details of the plan, but it didn't matter because in the end she suggested it on her own. She's worried about her son and I said I'd look after him. You can trust me, Mr. Ziegler."

"Well, since we're co-conspirators, you may as well call me Toby," the speech writer sighed.

8

**Saturday, 6:02 a.m**.

Josh woke to a white expanse that did not look familiar. He turned his head to the side, regretting it instantly from the stiffness in his neck. The view to his right looked familiar. He was in his house. He looked up again and realized it was his own living room ceiling that had perplexed him so.

"Rather than surprise you with my presence I'll just start talking so you can arrange your thoughts to appropriately insult and degrade me for being a lousy person," Miller said from his seat in the front window.

He had been awake for a while himself, having spent the evening sitting up in a chair, occasionally checking on the patient and trying to think of what to say when the man woke and discovered the unexpected visitor in the house.

"Halidol?" Josh asked simply, wondering what he had been given the night before.

"Nothing that strong," Miller replied. "You hadn't eaten much or slept in the last three or four days so it was just an Ambien. One of your mother's, actually. Before you wonder why she has them, it's because she doesn't like flying and has a hard time sleeping the two days or so before she has a flight. Her doctor prescribed them for her when you got married. She was anticipating a lot of flying to DC for family visits."

"She told you?" Josh asked.

"Right after she suggested we knock you out with something so that you could rest for a while," Miller replied. "Be pissed at me, not her."

"I will be," Josh replied. "I need my phone."

"I just called the hospital 10 minutes ago," Miller said. "Nothing new."

"I also have a job that needs my…," Josh began.

"Are you going to tell me how important you are?" Miller asked. "Let me guess, the President of the United States has your home phone number on speed dial."

"The President doesn't dial anyone," Josh said. "He has a fleet of secretaries to do that."

"I was trying to be funny."

"You failed," Josh said and rubbed his hands over his face. "You also haven't directed me to my phone."

"Toby will be here to talk to you about anything that's important," Miller replied. "Do you want coffee?"

"I want you gone," Josh said as he stood on rubbery feeling legs and headed toward the kitchen.

"I know you don't have the ability to say thank you because you're this son-of-a-bitch of a politician, but I'm just going to pretend that you did and say you're welcome and let you know if there is anything else I can do, just ask," Miller replied as he followed him.

"Thank you?" Josh replied. "For what? For drugging me against my will? That's called unlawful restraint. It's a felony. I didn't invite you into my house so how about unlawful entry? Also a felony when coupled with the previous crime. You want to talk about speed dial? I have the AG on mine."

"I have Bosco's Pizzeria on mine," Miller replied. "Oh, and Thompson's Hardware."

"What are you doing?"

"I thought we were comparing who we have on speed dial," Miller offered.

"No."

"Your list may sound impressive, but I haven't really seen the need to call the AG before and something tells me he won't deliver a pizza," Miller continued.

**Oval Office**

**8:24 a.m.**

Leo entered the Oval Office behind the President. They had been in the Situation Room for an hour discussing the latest satellite photos of the Middle East with a team of military advisors. The pictures were ambiguous at best.

"We're still talking to Egypt, I assume," Bartlet asked.

"That call happens at 11:30 our time," Leo reported. "All indications are that the Egyptians are getting no different intel than we are, but they're talking with the Syrians so that means any unknowns right now are almost universal."

"Iran holds the trump card," Bartlet shook his head. "Do you know the greatest problem with dealing a country that wants to annihilate you just because you exist?"

"Well, its certainly not picking out the right birthday greeting for the leaders," Leo shrugged.

"When all your allies agree the man in charge is a terrorist and at the same time know you have to deal with him, it makes it very difficult to call him what he is: a terrorist," Bartlet seethed. "It only makes things worse that the man can do more than just speak in complete sentences and wave a weapon in the air but that he wears a suit and has a diploma from a prestigious British University on his wall. How do you call upon then world to condemn him when he looks so much very much like the rest of us do?"

"Looking and being are two different things," Leo said. "Only men of conscience would see and then see through the hypocrisy. The ones you need to convince don't need reminding that this man has called for the annihilation of an entire people just because he doesn't like the way they worship God and that he denies the Holocaust ever happened. They also don't need to be reminded that he puts guns and other explosives in the hands of crazy people who are willing to pull the triggers he won't do himself. It's a game of chicken, sir. He can do all the name calling and martyr recruitment he wants. Rational heads will prevail if we all just remember to take a breath before we act."

"It's also helpful to remember that he has nuclear capability," Toby said, stepping into the room. "Leo, we believe the man has weapons-grade uranium in those precious factories he had built to supply his nation with an affordable power source. Never mind that that country sits on the richest oil reserve on the planet and doesn't use in a year the electricity that Las Vegas uses in a single night…"

"He lacks a reliable delivery system," Leo pointed out.

"So does the U.S. Postal Service but that doesn't stop them," Toby said then got stern looks from both men. "Not to pass the buck, but those were actually Josh's words. I spoke to him 10 minutes ago and he wanted to be certain we didn't lose sight of the elephant on the map, I guess."

"Thank you," Bartlet said. "He'd have said it better, by the way."

"Those were his exact words," Toby pointed out with a tense chuckle.

"I'm sure they were, but I was referring to a timing and pace thing," Bartlet said waving off the discussion. "Do you have a draft for me?"

Toby handed him the draft he and Sam had finished just moments earlier of words the President was slated to speak to the nation the following night in regard to the situation. With the markets closed for the weekend, it was thought best to allay any residual fears that might continue to drive up oil prices during the next week's trading.

"You spoke to Josh this morning?" Bartlet asked as he put on his glasses and looked at the speech.

"Briefly," Toby replied. "He was going to stop by the hospital then come in for the day. We have a meeting with Wegland and Parker this morning then we'll go to the Hill and take a few more meetings there. Sam will be working with the other writers to polish this draft again and finalize the trade union remarks for Monday."

"Sam's not going to the Hill?" Leo asked.

"I asked him not to," Toby replied. "I'm fully briefed on the immigration package and Sam's had a stronger hand in the structure of the trade speech. That's more pressing."

"That's the only reason?" Bartlet asked as he continued to read.

"As far as I know," Toby replied. "I've been keeping Josh in the loop on things so he and I have done some planning."

"Is he up for this?" Leo asked.

"Logic says no, but I don't use logic when discussing Josh and what he should or shouldn't do," Toby answered. "I know he slept last night so I think he'll be fine. We'll be on the same side with everyone in the meeting so I'm not concerned about him jumping back into the pool on this thing."

"See that neither of you drowns or takes anyone out in the process," Bartlet counseled as he peered over his glasses.

**George Washington Hospital**

**Room 312**

**4:38 p.m.**

Josh entered the quiet room at the far end of the hall feeling as though he had been absent for days rather than just hours. He had passed Donna's mother as he approached the room. They exchanged frosty nods of acknowledgement, which was an improvement he noted. Just days earlier, she would cast her eyes downward and refused to look at him. His own mother explained that Patricia Moss felt guilty for her initial reaction and was unprepared to be called on it so quickly and vehemently by the son-in-law that she barely knew.

Anna Lyman had done nothing to apologize for her son's sharp words, figuring that it was his job to make his own peace with the woman, but had counseled the other woman on the rough world of politics and the need to speak truth to power. She neither agreed nor disagreed with her son's handling of his communication with his mother in law, but it did not surprise Anna Lyman that it had happened. There was a reason her son did the President's politics and was not working for the State Department.

Josh took a seat by the bed and took Donna's hand in his. He noticed for the first time that her wedding ring and engagement ring were not on her finger. He recalled vaguely that she had taken them off a few times in recent weeks after complaining they were too tight some days. However, he was unaware she had stopped wearing them regularly. He did not recall seeing them on the dress in their bedroom. Then again, he reasoned, he had spent very little time there in the last several days and may have missed them.

"You'd have put them some place where you'd find them," he said to her as though she was privy to the conversation going on in his head previously. "They're probably on the thing you have near the door where you put your car keys."

Donna remained virtually motionless. Her complexion was wan looked unnaturally frozen in disappointment. Usually, when she slept, he had seen an expression of sorts, not quiet a smile but not a tightlipped-pose either, on her face. She didn't look relaxed right now so much as trapped.

"Sorry I haven't been here more today," he apologized. "The world went to hell outside as well the this week. I had to go help put some of it back together. I called and checked in a few times, just so you know. I didn't leave. Work is important but…. You understand, right? If not, now would be a good time to sit up and tell me."

He paused and waited for a response.

"Or if sitting up is too much, a word or two would be fine," he offered. "Hell, I'll take open eyes, squeeze of the hand, an eyebrow twitch. Anything. Donna?"

Josh paused again. No response came forth.

He sighed then settled in for another long night of waiting. Marcy said she would be by later in the evening with some reports from Toby and the legislative liaisons. She was determined that the business of state would not hinder Josh's vigil at Donna's bedside unless absolutely necessary. Josh found her resolve surprising and amusing. He knew that starting on Monday he would not be able to camp in Donna's room any longer if he was to remain working in his current capacity. Leo suggested a leave of absence, but Josh knew it was a bad time for the administration and without any change in Donna's condition, sitting through meetings and doing something where he could make a difference was what he needed to do for his own sanity.

The late afternoon stretched into evening. Josh was lulled into a near sleep by the silence of the room and the regular pace of the nurses passing by the door to the hallway. He was nearly in a trace and almost didn't notice the change in Donna's breathing of the flutter of her eyelids. It was the slow but deliberate contraction of her hand on his that alerted him.

"Donna?" he said sitting forward attentively then grabbing the previously pointless call button by her side. "Donna, can you hear me? Look at me."

Her eyelids appeared heavy and unwilling to yield for several seconds. However, by the time the nurse arrived to check on his summons, both were open and streaming tears. She was unable to speak but the nurse explained it would take several moments and attempted to do an assessment of her own. Eventually, small and hoarse noises emanated from her lips then dissolved into quiet, painful sobs as the course of events from the last week were explained to her.

"Where are they?" she asked slowly as she weakly brushed away some of her tears.

"Upstairs," Josh said, trying to be strong but knowing his own words were too shaky to sound reassuring. "They're hanging in there."

"I want to see them," she pleaded exhaustedly.

"Wait for the doctor," the nurse said. "He'll be here soon and we'll see how you're feeling after that."

"I want to see my babies," Donna demanded and struggled to lift her head. However, she was barely able to raise it off her pillows before the weakness in her limbs deflated her fortitude.

"You will," Josh told her. "You just have to take things slow."

"I'm sorry," she cried.

"Why?" he asked.

"It's my fault," she wept. "I should have…."

"Stop it," he said. "I'm tired of everyone being sorry about this. I voted in a measure. No one is allowed to be sorry or say sorry about this any more. You're coming to the party a little late so you didn't get the ground rules, but now you know."

"Don't joke," she snapped.

"I'm not," he said. "Look, the doctor is going to tell you what he told me. This thing had sudden onset and couldn't be predicted. You didn't do anything to cause it and nothing they could have done previously could have prevented it. End of story."

"Is that true?" she asked doubtfully.

"Maybe the first part was to make me feel better and the second part was keep someone from getting sued, but frankly I don't care at the moment," Josh replied. "I'm just happy to see your eyes open again."

"I want to see my babies," she pleaded. "Please."

"Hold on," the nurse said then left the room.

Donna continued to weep and fight the exhaustion that was attacking her from the inside out. However, she managed to keep her eyes open and even listen without objection or outburst when the doctor arrived and explained to her (in less comprehensible terms than the nurse had) what had happened and what she should expect over the next 24 hours. He did not give her permission to leave her bed and visit the NICU and see her children in the end. Another doctor from the NICU also arrived and explained the harsh reality that her children were facing several floors above and offered no odds on their prognosis. Donna stared listlessly at the wall as he left, not caring to hear that her mother was on her way back to the hospital or that Josh's mother was with her and pleased she was awake.

Josh was unable to console her. Her body shivered with sorrow and a steady flow of tears spilled from her eyes.

"We have to change his name," she said eventually.

"I'm sorry?" Josh asked.

"You have to change his name," she said adamantly. "We can't name him that."

"Why?" he asked shocked at the proclamation.

"Because," she said as if that was sufficient reason.

"No," Josh replied. "We agreed—back in December."

"You can't name him Noah," Donna shook her head. "Josh, you can't."

"Like hell I can't," Josh said. "Give me one reason why."

"I won't let you," she said.

"Donna," Josh said with clenched teeth as he tried to be firm without being angry. "I think maybe you're not thinking clearly right now and that…"

"I'm thinking very clearly," she sniffled then looked at him so forlornly that he was stunned to silence. "You can't lose Noah Lyman twice in your life. It's not fair to you."

"It won't happen," Josh said tightly as his eyes grew misty. "We won't lose him."

"The doctor doesn't think…" Donna began then was unable to finish the sentence as she inhaled in a shaky fashion and more tears spilled over her cheeks.

"The doctor said they both have a long way to go, but he didn't give us any odds," Josh said. "And even if he did, and even if it was just one percent, that's still a chance, right?"

"It's not an election," Donna shuddered as she tried to compose herself. "This isn't about convincing someone that your candidate is the better man."

"That's right," Josh agreed. "No opposition to pull dirty tricks. Everyone wants to see a win here. That's got to raise expectations."

"Stop trying to spin this," she said. "I heard the doctor, Josh. He's not very optimistic."

"I don't care what the doctor thinks or doesn't think," Josh said, brushing away her tears with his thumb. "But I know Noah Lyman; he's tough and he's strong."

"Your father meant so much to you that…," Donna began.

"I was talking about my son there," Josh cut her off. "Donna, he shouldn't have made it the first hour, much less the first day, but he did. He hasn't gotten worse so every day, every hour, every minute is a notch in his column. Until an hour ago, he had one up on you. He's been awake off and on since he was born. Something tells me he's the competitive sort. We'll tell him you're awake and he'll want to top that. The kid likes to win."

"How do you know?" she asked with the slightest hint of a weak smile on her face.

"It's genetic," Josh replied. "So you can forget about your name objection. You're over ruled, our two votes against your one."

"Are you sure?" she asked, looking at him thoughtfully and seeing the decisiveness in his eyes.

"My father was the greatest man I've ever known, and you may be aware that I've known some amazing men my time," Josh assured her. "He was brilliant and tenacious and compassionate and honorable. And considering the state of the world today, I think this place could use another Noah Lyman."

"Okay," Donna nodded and gripped his hand more tightly.

"Your turn," Josh said.

"What?"

"Her name," Josh said expectantly. "I don't want her to get a complex because we didn't name her. 'Hey You' just seems a little cold and impersonal."

"I had a list," Donna sighed then tried to recall what it was. She bit her lip as she realized that she hadn't made a list per se. "I only had one name on it. We vetoed so many others but this was the only one I couldn't find any objection to and couldn't imagine any you might create either."

"Try me," Josh offered but was not sure he had the strength to disagree with the lighthearted banter that had pervaded their previous discussions of her name possibilities.

"I like the name Jessica," Donna said. "It was the name of my first grade teacher—the one who taught me to read. It was her last name actually, but usually it's a first name. It came to me a week ago when I was working on the literacy funding package for you. Miss Jessica. It sounded so pretty and proper and… perfect."

"Jessica Lyman?" Josh repeated and waited. "I got nothing."

"Meaning?"

"We have a winner," Josh replied then kissed her on the forehead. "I knew you'd save the best for last. You always do."

"Jessica Manchester Lyman," Donna said.

"Whoa," Josh stopped. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I thought since you named our son after your father and we decided his middle name should be…," Donna began.

"No," Josh shook his head. "You're not naming her after a city in New Hampshire."

"It's where we met," Donna said.

"So you're saying I should be glad we didn't meet in Climax, North Carolina, or Intercourse, Pennsylvania," Josh replied.

She fixed him with a displeased if tired glare. He relented quickly and opted to fight over her suggestion for their daughter's middle name at another time. He also shook off the jitters he felt as he scolded himself for saying such a thing about his daughter. It wasn't so much the inappropriateness of the comment as the thought that he was someone's father that was disconcerting; he hadn't let himself acknowledge that that yet. The sorrow that it might be a fleeting situation also dragged on his heart.

"Who do they look like?" Donna asked.

Josh opened his mouth but could not answer. He didn't know. He sighed and decided it would be best to repeat what the nurse had said about the medical intervention they were both receiving and emphasize that there was a lot of it. He hoped she could draw her own picture before she laid eyes on them for the first time; he felt it would be better if she's wasn't shocked as he had been. She had been through enough.

"Donna, they're not…," Josh began. "The doctors and nurses have every machine they could possibly think of that would help all crowded around them."

"But you've seen them," she said innocently. "Who do you think they…"

"See for yourself," offered the nurse who had departed some time ago.

In her hands was a single 8 x 10 piece of paper. She handed it to Donna.

"They keep a digital camera in the NICU—so families can email pictures to relatives," the nurse explained in a conspiratorial tone and added a wink for good measure. "I printed these on the administrator's computer—don't' tell him."

Donna looked at the pictures and scrutinized them. She bit her lip and tears welled up in her eyes again. Josh watched her carefully and held her hand, waiting for the next round of sobs.

"I think she has my hands," Donna wept and pointed at the fresh print. "And look at his little ears."

**Up next: Chapter 24**


	24. The Invitation

**Title: Heaven and Hell (Chapter 24): The Invitation**

**Author: **Enigmatic Ellie (who promises to reveal her actual name when the series is over so that people will consider buying her novel(s) )

**Notes**: Okay, it's been a long hiatus…. Too long some have said. Let's just get past that. I'm back… I hope. If you notice that my pacing is off or my characters seem a bit flat, just know that I'm trying…

***************

**White House **

**Communications Bullpen**

"Ginger," Toby called from his desk. He stared at the TV opposite his desk where CSPAN was airing a Senate debate. "Ginger?"

The assistant poked her head into his office. "Yeah?" she asked as she stripped of her scarf and coat.

"Where's Sam?" he asked

"He's not in here?" she asked.

Toby scratched his head and sighed dryly.

"Unless he's transformed himself into a couch…," the communications director replied.

"Then I don't know," she said. "I just got here. Did you need him?"

"No," he said rising from his seat. "I thought I'd ask just to make sure he wasn't pretending to be furniture. Call Leo's office and tell him I'm coming over."

"Do you want me to say what it's about?" Ginger inquired.

"Our people in the senate are morons," Toby huffed.

"Is that news?" she asked lifting the phone.

Rather than answer, Toby left the area on his way to the Chief of Staff's Office. Twelve hours earlier he had held a meeting with senate Democrats about the legislative agenda. The matter consuming debate and discussion on the senate floor at that moment was not a part of that agreement. The Fair Pay Act was supposed to be the top priority starting that morning. How discussion of the parking of aircraft carriers in naval port side-by-side was made first topic of the morning was, to say the least, a mystery. With unpleasant thoughts about anyone serving a six-year term, Toby approached Leo's office. His thoughts, like is expression, were dark.

"He's waiting for you," Margaret said without looking up as Toby approached.

"Thank you," he replied tersely.

**Leo's Office**

The Chief of Staff poured over his morning memos with his glasses perched precariously on the top of his nose. His expression was guarded. He had spent part of the previous evening with the President in the Situation Room going over the latest KH12 images. The satellites appeared to confirm what they were hearing from the field and from diplomatic channels: the Israelis were keeping to their promise to not put more craters in Haifa; however, there was questionable movement from their neighbors. That Israel was showing any restraint was amazing. After a brokered cease-fire, with the help of back channels from a South American ambassador, nearly five weeks earlier the situation was growing tense again.

"We got request from the UN Council on Global Climate Change," Leo began. "They want the leading industrial nations to appoint representatives to serve on what will be a permanent council for environmental issues."

"This is going to lead to an environmental court," Toby ventured, momentarily taken off his rant. "Are we in favor of that I mean, seeing as we're bound to be fined by such a body."

"Good reason to get on the jury, don't you think?" Leo said. "It's just an advisory council right now. The President would like a short list of names."

"Fine," Toby sighed and shook his head.

"What do you need?" Leo asked as observing his tense posture.

"Something large to hit Ralph Carlisle with would be nice," Toby huffed. "Something like a tank or maybe a well-placed aircraft carrier."

"He's not," Leo sighed.

"Just now," Toby nodded. "He has five foot tall color photos of the ports and a few too many references to Pearl Harbor to make anyone take him seriously. Does he think this is going to get him appointed Secretary of Defense or is he bucking for a job as a parking attendant?"

Leo shook his head. The senator in question was showing a continuing interest in how many aircraft carriers could be in any one port at any time. In theory, using his Pearl Harbor argument, this was a security risk as it placed too many assets too close together too often. His solution was as simple as it was unfeasible: build more naval bases. That his desire to have yet another in Florida and, in building it, removing vast tracks of privately owned land and making them restricted served several wealthier locations much better than it would the public or the navy.

"He did this today?" Leo asked.

"Just a minute ago," Toby said. "I can't find Sam. I'm guessing he's on the Hill with the House members."

Leo paused in his thoughts and looked at Toby then shook his head.

"No," he said.

"Leo, this shouldn't be personal," Toby continued.

"It's not," the chief of staff assured him. "There's no one else I would trust to turn things over to now, and no one else masochistic enough to throw himself into this mess at this point—and even if there was, I wouldn't trust that person because no one in his right mind would take that job right now. I've made my decision, Toby. I'm not reassigning anything more. Besides, Josh is back full-time."

"Since when?" Toby asked gesturing wildly in his frustration. "He's here seven or eight hours at most."

"That's nearly the entire day we pay him for," Leo reminded him. "And what Josh gets done in 8 hours is what a lot of others get done in 14 or 15 hours."

"Are you referring to my draft for the Franklin Foundation?" he asked testily.

"No, that's me subtly reminding you that the other 10 hours you each put in is not technically in your assigned duties," Leo said.

"Leo, things are slipping," Toby argued.

"Like the time you have left to finish the Franklin text," he warned.

"We need someone full time, and by that I mean all the time, on the legislative agenda," Toby grumbled. "Josh is personally dealing with the Hill only marginally. He's spending most of his time staffing the President these days."

"Yeah, that's at the President's request," Leo reminded him. "The President wants Josh in on the security briefings and the economic calls right now. Josh knows the players differently than the President and he's been right on the money with his advice for the last few weeks. It's a nice winning streak we'd like to extend as long as we can. Not to mention the President appreciates and finds value in Josh's take on the Gaza situation."

"Yeah, well, I happen to think the President is more than capable of calling the Deputy Secretary of State a myopic crackpot on his own," Toby remarked.

"So do I, but the President thinks it sounds better coming from Josh and I'm in agreement," Leo said. "Look, Toby, I know what you're going to say; you've said it a dozen times in half as many weeks, but as far as I can see, he's keeping up with things. If little things are being missed, you can address them. Josh has a fleet of deputies to take care of the little stuff."

"Yeah, I've seen their work already today and I'm not a fan, Leo," Toby sighed. "We're discussing parking allocation rather than the Fair Pay Act today on the Hill. What's next?"

"Why moonlight doesn't kill vampires?" Sam asked as he entered the room sporting a fresh grin that made Toby eye the man's coffee cup with intense anger. "Good morning, Leo."

The Chief of Staff nodded to him and suppressed a grin as he spied the angry flush on the Communications Director's face.

"Sam?" Toby questioned.

"After all, moonlight is reflected sunlight, and sunlight is supposed to kill vampires," Sam elaborated. " Using that logic, moonlight should kill them too, right?"

"When exactly did you start adding psychotropic drugs to your sissy coffee?" Toby glared.

"I stole that from Tom Toles' cartoon in the Post this morning," Sam replied. "Lighten up."

"He can't," Leo offered in a bored tone as he looked at the file on her desk again. "He's mad at aircraft carriers right now."

"This is about the Florida plan to take the coastline out of dangerous and untrustworthy hands of private citizens netting less than three million each year?" Sam ventured taking a seat and surveying the redness on his boss's face with interest.

"In directly," Leo nodded.

"Mostly it's about Josh not doing his job," Toby replied. "I understand he's entitled to family leave. I'm all for family leave. I worked to help craft the law that makes his not working possible."

"But now you're rethinking those provisions?" Sam wondered. "You know that there are no Mulligans in signed legislation, right?"

"After I run over Carlisle with a tank, I'm coming for you," Toby vowed before turning to face the Chief of Staff again. "Leo, I'm serious."

"Josh is back full-time as of today," Leo replied.

"Has he been in yet?" Toby wondered. Silent fell on the room. "So full-time has a different meaning still. Gotcha."

"Toby, give the guy a break," Sam said. "His kids have been hanging on for their lives for the last few weeks."

"You're stumping for him?" Toby asked. "Doesn't he still despise you?"

"He's warming to me," Sam said with a touch of anxiety. "Yesterday, we even talked over lunch about non-work things."

"You said you were going to Boston for a friend's wedding this weekend," Toby noted. "You said you were going and he nodded and said whatever."

"He didn't tell me to get the hell away from him," Sam offered. "He nodded, in what I felt was a friendly way, and acknowledged that I was talking about something other than the latest report from the Hispanic caucus."

"Oh, well, he's practically asking you to golf with him next week at Hilton Head," Toby rolled his eyes. "He wasn't listening to you, Sam. "

"Josh has forgiven, Sam," Leo added in an uninterested tone.

"He has?" Sam seized on the proclamation.

"Yeah, because he's an adult and has other things to think about lately," Leo said. "That and because I told him he had to; he still listens to me."

"Yeah, he just forgot to tell you, Sam," Toby continued. "He'll get around to that just after he gets around to rolling the heads of his staff for not silencing Senator Carlisle before he got to the well of the senate this morning. Don't hold your breath. Josh only meets with his people for half an hour a day when Marcie grants them an audience with the Invisible Deputy."

"You're still jealous that he's spending more time with the President than you are," Sam countered. "You know what this is? Oval Office envy. Maybe if you had let me help you with the text for the Franklin Foundation you would be finished and allowed to join them."

Leo sighed forcefully and glared at both of them.

"I feel like a principal who needs to hand out detention to the student council here," he said. "Toby, I'm saying it for the last time. Josh can staff his work out however he chooses. I trust him; and all those people who work under him—that's why we pay them. Nothing is slipping except maybe my level of interest in this conversation. If you don't feel like you're having enough time to talk to Josh, take it up with him. He's meeting with Congressmen Holtz and Skinner right now."

"Right now?" Toby asked. "This is the first I'm hearing about it."

"Marcie has his schedule," Leo said. "They revived the immigration bill and we're pushing it along with the Fair Pay Act. We had a meeting last night."

"I wasn't in on it," Toby sighed. "Was anyone going to tell me? We're going to run a double prong offense for two pieces of virtually unpassable legislation at the same time? That wasn't our strategy."

"It is now," Leo said, handing Toby a memo written by Josh following their meeting the previous evening.

"See, here's what I think the problem is," Sam cut in. "You don't deal with change well, Toby. Josh left the club of guys who work here and don't have a life so they are here practically around the clock. I think if you consider it objectively you'd agreed that he's been here a hell of a lot more than he should have been. Besides, other than you not having anyone to argue with or agree with to your liking, nothing's blown up without Josh being here. I mean, except that road in Haifa, and that wasn't his fault, was it, Leo?"

"Not as far as the NSA and CIA are concerned," the Chief of Staff said. "Now, if neither of you have any good reason for being here…"

The two staffers exited into the hallway and made their way back to the Communications Bullpen. Sam followed in Toby's angry wake, peppering him with encouragement about the agreement struck yesterday regarding the latest legislative push to level the playing field for women in the workplace.

"It's a reasonable compromise," Sam said. "The posturing was minimal and the cost negligible. In the end, the payoff was a bargain at twice the price."

"Are you talking about the Fair Pay Act?" Toby questioned his deputy as he entered his office amid Sam's stream of supportive statements.

"No," he shook his head. "I'm talking about the agreement to start talking about the bill on the Hill today. The bill is… well, there's no way it'll pass as is. They're going to carve it up like they always do, but we've still got some capital to spend. We'll get some of it back—a great deal if we play this right."

"How?" Toby asked.

"Well, we could turn a few hundred miles of Florida coastline over to a select number of developers who are huge donors to the GOP and the US Navy," Sam grinned. "That buys us both the Republican and Democratic senators from the Sunshine State."

Toby narrowed his eyes then lowered his head to start reading the messages on his desk. The low, throaty growl Sam heard sounded like a warning. Taking it as a cue to leave, he departed the office and closed the door quietly behind him.

**********

**Press Secretary's Office**

CJ and her assistant Carol were in her office finishing prep for the mid-morning gaggle. The questions were likely to range from the upcoming push for the Fair Pay Act to the puzzling mixed signals being given by several national unions regarding the proposed legislation to encourage the formation of more unions. However, what she felt was most likely going to take up much of the time was a spray of questions about the President's recent off the cuff remarks at a Rose Garden function honoring nationally recognized elementary schoolteachers, which was earning him flack from baseball fans and (naturally) Republicans who felt his comments attacked one of the most American of institutions: Major League Baseball.

"Do you still want baseball stats?" Carol asked making notes. "Jack can pull some stories about multimillion dollar contracts."

"No," CJ shook her head. "Toby thinks it'll just keep the story going."

"What's wrong with that?" Carol asked. "Mark Godfreid did a panel on education funding last night and the Times had an editorial about it. Both of them mentioned the difference in pro-athlete salaries verses what we spend on early education."

"Yeah, but it was the Washington Time not the New York Times, and they made fun of us," CJ replied. "And Mark's program wasn't about education so much as he was taking shots at the DC council and their funding attempts for the National's new park. Also there's some concern about a strike this year and I don't want any part of that. The President certainly isn't going to step in if the players do strike, and…"

"Ignoring one union doesn't make us look good to others?" Carol nodded. "Gotcha. Anything else?"

"I need Josh for a few minutes this afternoon on immigration," CJ said. "Have Marcie get me his last few minutes of the day."

"I think they're both on the Hill this morning," Carol offered as she read her notes. "The Congressional liaison guys said he tangled with a senator this morning about a picture or a speech."

"What?" CJ looked up quickly. "And you didn't think that was the most important thing to tell me when you got in here?"

"They said it was okay," Carol reported. "It sounded sort of funny; they were laughing about it."

"Yeah, well, their sense of humor sort of sucks sometimes," CJ said. "Get me Mike Costa over here. I need to know what happened before I get near the press room in case…."

"In case Josh is back to being…," Carol began.

"The Josh who puts my blood pressure through the roof, yeah," CJ nodded waving her out of the room.

Carol nodded and headed out of the room but stopped as she reached the door.

"Oh, you wanted me to remind you about the Vice President's book," Carol said. "His office is sending over the advanced copy today. Are we expecting anything surprising?"

"No," CJ shook her head. "He'll slap the President around only a little—he needs his support if he…"

"Isn't it a bit early to start running for president?" Carol asked. "The mid-terms are still seven months away and the general election is nearly 20 months away."

"It gets earlier every year," CJ sighed. "Get me the copy as soon as it gets here and make sure Josh and Toby got copies as well."

***********

**White House**

**Northwest Lobby**

Josh entered the west wing followed quickly by his assistant, Marcie. She was hobbling on a broken high heel as she kept pace with him and tried to scribble notes on their recently ended meeting.

"That's four years worth of numbers from CBP?" she asked.

"CBP and ICE," he corrected. "And make sure they give you apprehensions, number of illegals charged and number actually removed, not just the administrative removals they never effect."

"So you don't care about those?" she shook her head as they traversed the lobby and headed toward the operations bullpen.

"No, I do care," Josh insisted. "I just want them to break out the numbers so we can see what they do at the border for expedited 240 turnarounds verses how many cases make it to hearing in from of a judge and what the result of those hearings were."

"And someone with the immigration department will have those numbers?" Marcie asked taking her broken shoe off as she reached her desk.

"No," he smiled as he shook his head. "They won't have them. Their data systems don't have the ability to pull that kind of information."

"But you're asking anyway?" she wondered. He opened his mouth to explain why. "No, don't tell me. I don't honestly care."

"Donna always cared," he noted. "She was curious about her work."

"I doubt it," Marcie shook her head.

"No," Josh disagreed. "She asked a lot of questions."

"She had a crush on her boss, for reasons passing understanding, and feigned interest in his maniacal assignments in order to spend time with him," Marcie replied.

Josh eyed her carefully. Her point was debatable, but he did not care to continue the discussion.

"I don't really like you sometimes," he said.

"The feeling is mutual," she smiled, relieved there would be no additional lesson to her assignment. "Senator Carlisle's chief of staff feels the same way, too, or so I assume. I've never seen anyone in a suit throw a stapler at another adult before today."

"You haven't been in politics that long," he assured her as he turned toward his office. "Besides, he throws like a girl. He missed me by a yard."

"Well, my heel is a casualty of this latest failed attempt to kill you," she snapped. "These were Prada!"

"It still is," Josh pointed out.

"I can't wear it," she seethed.

"Send Mark Philby the bill," Josh suggested.

"Can I?"

"No," he shook his head. "They are a casualty of politics. It's a rough game, Marcie. Get used to it or get out."

"I owned one pair of Prada shoes, one," she continued. "One nice thing and it gets ruined when I'm with you. I don't make that much money, Josh. My wardrobe budget is very slim and I can't run out to the outlet stores every day to replace things."

"Hold on," he cut in. "Weren't you complaining about blisters this morning?"

"Not the point," she huffed.

"And you just said you shop at outlets stores," he remarked.

"Not all of us have a million bucks stashed away for a rainy day," Marcie said. "I'm thrifty because I have to be. The sacrifices I make for this job are really not fair to me."

"So what you're mad about is that your status symbol shoes, which evidently didn't fit and you didn't pay much for, turned out to be made pretty crappy," Josh nodded while cautiously eyeing the brilliant pink, sharp points at the ends of her fingers. "Maybe if you cut back on servicing those talons you call nails you might be able to afford better shoes."

"Do you drug Donna or something?" she wondered as she sat forcefully in her seat. "Because if this is the way you acted when she worked for you, I'm shocked she ever fell for you. Oh, and just so we're clear, no one else wanted to work with you so don't even think about pulling that 'you're fired' line on me."

Josh opened his mouth but decided better than speak the words that sprang first to his mind. He shook his head and offered her a work-related order.

"Get me those numbers," he said as he turned to enter his office.

"You mean get you evidence that no one can get you those numbers?" she clarified as she lifted the phone and began stabbing the buttons.

"Before noon," he nodded as he closed the door.

*************

**Oval Office—outer office**

**10:30 a.m.**

Josh arrived outside the Oval Office to begin his day with the President. Debbie sat at her desk scrutinizing the screen on her computer with a sour expression.

"Is the President ready?" Josh asked.

"He's still in the Situation Room with Leo," she reported. "There was a delay getting the Philippines on the phone so the schedule is off by 18 minutes at the moment; however, you are seven minutes early. Do you know what that means?"

"You're going to fine me?" Josh ventured. He would not put it past the President's Executive Secretary to begin penalizing anyone on staff for their role in altering her well-hone schedule for the commander-in-chief each day.

"I hadn't thought of it, but not a bad idea," Debbie remarked. "No, I was going to say that if you don't mind having your time wasted, there's a chance we'll be back on track shortly. Well, that and why aren't you showing me pictures?"

"Pictures?" he wondered.

"Yes," she insisted. "Little people, you know the recent tax breaks that entered your family. I haven't seen a picture for two weeks."

"Hold on," he said, putting down his leather folder and fishing his cell out of his pocket. "I think Donna sent me some yesterday."

"You think?" Debbie scoffed. "How do you not know?"

"She sent them as I was arriving at the hospital," Josh defended. "I didn't need to see photos. I was there."

"Less talking, more showing, Daddy-O," she commanded while snapping her fingers then stripping the device out of his hand.

Debbie reviewed the pictures and proclaimed yet again that she wasn't sure who the little girl reminded of her more: Donna or Tweety Bird. The secretary continually marveled at the little girl's wide eyes. As for the boy, she was firmer than she was previously.

"Yeah, there's no way you could deny that one," Debbie said shaking her head. "He's you, right down to that smart-alecky expression. Do the nurses find him arrogant?"

"Donna thinks he flirts with the NICU staff," Josh said retrieving the phone.

Before Debbie could argue that Donna was probably right, the president appeared and headed into his office. He greeted Josh asked him to join him in the Oval Office for their afternoon session. Bartlet went to his desk and perused the folders there as Josh approached. The president looked up and offered him an expectant expression.

"You and Debbie seemed rather engrossed," he remarked. "I can guess what it was about. So, give me numbers."

"Numbers, sir?" Josh repeated. "Do you mean the OMB specs on…"

"No, not those," Bartlet said. "I'll want those later. Right now, I'm looking for smaller numbers. Something approaching the number six, I believe."

"Sir?"

"I'm asking what's our progress, Josh," Bartlet said. "I'm using my fatherly voice not my presidential voice right now."

"Oh," Josh nodded. "That. Uh, four point seven and five point nine."

"Magic number is still six pounds?" Bartlet queried. "Your son is still winning the race?"

"Yeah," Josh replied. "I think Donna's going to slip pennies in their socks to tip the scales to take at least one of them home soon."

The President smiled and shook his head understandingly as he took a seat on the couch. Josh followed suit and sat opposite him. Bartlet asked every day at some point about the children and was keeping close tabs on their progress through Josh's daily briefings. Part of Josh felt guilty taking up any of the man's time or the country's time with private discussions about his family, but the President's steady confidence that the children would continue to progress positively was soothing to Josh's frazzled nerves. Even the man's diatribes on all things related to children and parenthood were a source of solace.

"The doctors will know when they're ready to be sent home," Bartlet counseled. "I'm sure she's eager, but you don't want to rush these things. How is Donna? Debbie said that she resigned."

"I told her not to, not yet," Josh said. "Until we know for certain when either of them can come home, she should have kept her options open."

"You're thinking like her boss," Bartlet said. "The rationale of a mother is different."

"Donna's rationale is always different," Josh replied. "Right now, she thinks Noah is playing a game with her. He's been holding at just under six pounds for the last week. She's convinced he's keeping his weight down by wrestling his socks off; as if that amount of movement burns up his ounces. She thinks he's got a thing for one of the nurses and wriggles out of his socks to get the nurse's attention. This morning she let me know that since he's not listening to her that I need to talk to him."

"About not gaining a tenth of an ounce this week?" Bartlet wondered.

"Mostly about keeping his socks on," he replied. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say, but she's adamant that I do it so that he learns socks are not detrimental to his health, but I am also not be too harsh when I do it."

Josh shook his head. There were moments when he felt certain his wife had lost her senses; however, if he usually paused for a moment and thought back over the years he had known her, her requests regarding the well-being of their children usually did not seem any more screwy than other endeavors or requests she had made in the past. She was eager to bring the children home. She had been home for more than a month and was feeling anxious to start her role as full-time caretaker to the twins. Noah would be home first; he had put on the necessary weight the quickest and shown the most improvement in system function. Jessica was holding her own but was taking longer to reach the benchmarks that Noah passed earlier. Donna, however, felt that every day she was without full-time mothering tasks was quiet agony.

"Well, the best approach is to be firm now so he knows you mean business," Bartlet nodded sagely. "You should let both of them know that you are the supreme authority; that will serve you well in the future. That's how I raised my girls and when they hit that rebellious stage, they knew who had the final say in any argument."

"Mrs. Bartlet?" Josh ventured.

"Yeah," he admitted. "Well, Ellie was always sensitive and partial to her mother's demeanor. Liz was no trouble at all until she married—that was a painful rebellion, for me at least."

"What's your excuse for Zoey?" Josh wondered as he spied the President's daughter waving to him through the windows along the colonnade.

"Politics," Bartlet answered as he leaned over his desk to sign a document. In the interim, Zoey entered from the outer office. "If I hadn't been serving in the House of Representatives when she was young…. She was deprived of my full-time fatherly tutelage and my vast experience as a veteran parent during her youngest and most formative years."

"Mostly he didn't like that he couldn't understand my math homework," Zoey responded.

"That just encouraged me to redouble my efforts to improve education," Bartlet argued as a smile broke across his face. "Those problems were nonsensical. The basics, that's what you needed."

"He always retreats to the basics when he knows he's wrong," Zoey replied as she crossed the room and offered her father a hug.

"I didn't know you were dropping in today," Bartlet said. "Or am I just getting a flyby visit while Charlie is busy doing something else?"

"Yes and no," she replied. "I just stopping in briefly, but I wasn't here to see Charlie. I came to see Mom. I'm heading off to a date now."

"But not with Charlie?" Bartlet asked. "Zoey, I'm about to go to another meeting about our twitchy friends in the Middle East in a few minutes. You're not here to tell me that you're two-timing my personal aide, are you? That puts me in an uncomfortable position, and did I mention I'm already dealing with the Middle East?"

Zoey rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"She's going to the hospital with Donna, sir," Josh informed him.

"Wait, she gets to meet Noah and Jessica before I do?" Bartlet asked in an affronted tone. "Josh, I employ you. I expect better access than a 10 second glance a photo two weeks ago. Leader of the free world doesn't rate the way it used to, I guess."

"Weren't you just saying you have Middle East problems?" Zoey reminded him. "Besides, they sort of named one of them after you."

"Ah, yes, Noah Josiah," the President beamed. "I considered naming you after me, you know."

"Thank goodness for Mom," Zoey rolled her eyes.

****************

**Lyman House**

**8:05 p.m.**

Josh entered the house lugging his backpack, stuffed with folders, briefing papers and a book that he needed to digest before a 9 a.m. meeting with CJ the next day. Hoynes' book was not his first but it was suspected this, and the talk show circuit he would be riding because of it, was the kick off for his presidential bid. There was concern that he would be stacking the deck of history unjustly in his favor on any number of issues and starting to roll out a legislative agenda that was opposed to the current administration's. The senior staff was pouring over the text in the next 24 hours to see what political landmines or highjackings the book would bring.

"Donna?" Josh called as he hung up his coat.

"In here," she called from the living room. "You're late. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he said following the sound of her voice. "Jess was awake so I stayed until she fell asleep again. She's getting a little stubborn."

Donna grinned. The recent signs that their daughter was showing an obstinate streak was good in her book. The little creature previously seemed dangerously frail and without the spirit or fight her brother displayed.

"I've been reading her the email you mother sends," Donna said. "I think it's had a positive impact on her."

"Careful or her first word will be 'platinum,'" Josh rolled his eyes as he took a seat beside her on the couch.

"Did you talk to Noah about his socks?" she asked curling up next to him.

"No," Josh shook his head then kissed her on the cheek. "I did, however, explain the difficulties of living with a mother who is well-meaning but mildly insane."

"And when you did this, was he wearing his socks?" she asked.

"Uh, sort of," he replied. "He had one on his foot and the other gripped in his fingers. He took it from me. He picked his head up for a second or two."

The evening debriefing continued in that fashion. Each night, Josh would come home and give Donna his report of the latest on their children. She would then give him the morning report to keep him up to date on all the details of their children's care. They did not get to see the children at the same time usually. The tag-team approach worked best for their schedule. That they did not get much time to discuss their own lives was not a concern. Donna's world consisted of spending time at the hospital with the children and making sure everything was ready at the house for the day when they could come home. Josh's world was the one that was taking second seat to all other details. He did not mind. The predictable squabbles of Congress and skirmishes between the administration and the press were barely background noise when he arrived home each evening.

"What's this?" Donna asked when they had exhausted the primary topic of discussion.

She took the book out of Josh's backpack, which lay at his feet in front of the couch. She read the cover and opened to the index.

"Homework from CJ," Josh said. "Hoynes's book goes on the stands Friday. There's concern that he's going to rough up the president in a few spots to score points and grab some headlines. Nothing too serious, but we still have some governing to do."

"The President has a 61 percent approval rating," Donna said.

"Actually, internals and CNN have him at 64," Josh offered. "Hoynes' isn't going to go too far. He's just looking to start his campaign. He wants to take out the knees of his challengers early. It's smart."

"So are you," she remarked.

"Well…," he smiled.

"That's not me saying it," Donna said. "That's John Hoynes."

"It sounded like you," Josh said cranking his neck to look around the room. "I don't see the Vice President."

"I was paraphrasing," his wife sighed. "Have you read this yet?"

She sat up with interest and began reading the book.

"No," Josh yawned. "I'm supposed to do that tonight. I haven't read a good work of fiction in a long time; something tells me that streak will continue. Why?"

"You're all over this thing," she said scanning the pages. "I count 42 no make that 47 cited references in the index. Wow. It looks like you have a fan."

"I'm sure not all of those are flattering," Josh said. "You might recall that I used to work for him and then quit. He wasn't really happy about that."

"I know," she said scanning another page. "Did he really call you a…"

"He put that in there?" Josh sat forward and pulled the book toward him.

"Yeah and then he says a little further down," Donna quoted. "It was the greatest, most costly and most avoidable mistake he made in his bid for the presidency. Well, he changed his tune. He used to be so mad at you for going to work for the President."

"Did you say 47 references?" he asked.

"Uh huh," she said flipping to the front of the book. "Oh, and there's this."

She turned the title page toward him. Hoynes' handwriting was bold and clear: "For Josh, my shield, my sword, my most trusted advisor."

Josh read the words and frowned. He eyed the pages and Donna flipped through them with interest. He then recalled the note Marcie sent to him before leaving for the day. At the time, it seemed to be nothing more than a typical Washington social invite. He was required to accept certain invites as part of the job. So much of Washington politics were done in parlors off elite dining rooms at coveted addresses in the District. Josh had not been on the under the radar circuit for some time and the emergence of this invitation did not register as anything more than a signal that life was returning to normal for him—at first. Suddenly, it seemed more significant.

"I was invited to Gene and Leslie Corbett's for dinner next Thursday," Josh said distantly.

"I know," Donna nodded. "Leslie's secretary called and asked us to attend."

"She did?"

"Yeah," Donna nodded. "Leslie Corbett is a trustee at the hospital. I've seen her a few times in the last couple weeks. They just gave a lot of money to the NICU. We had coffee a week ago. I told you about it."

"She wanted to offer you work for some PR," Josh recalled dredging up the memory.

"They're doing some fundraising and asked if I would be interested in helping," Donna replied. "I didn't say yes, but I'm considering it. I'm all for more research into…"

"Yeah, that's fine," Josh said, relaxing slightly. "That makes sense."

"I can hear the gears grinding in there, Josh," Donna observed. "What did you think the dinner was about?"

"Nothing," he shook his head, chiding himself silently for thinking the focus of the invitation was him. "So, are we going? I mean, are you? I think I have to; the White House social secretaries told Marcie to put it on my schedule."

"You may not have time to go to the hospital that night," she said. "Don't worry about it; I'll explain it to them. Noah will understand, but Jess might be a little sensitive about it. Just don't make a habit of it."

"Sure," Josh nodded, not listening as he read the book over Donna's shoulder.

***************

**Deputy Chief of Staff's Office**

**7:32 a.m.**

CJ waited at Josh's desk, sighing impatiently as she heard him finishing his morning order list for Marcie. Thankfully, the banter that previously punctuated and elongated his discussions with his former assistant was absent. In under five minutes, he had tasked Marcie for the day and sent her off on a dozen errands and research projects. He entered his office with his trenchcoat still on and his backpack still over his shoulder.

"You know, when you're succinct and commanding like that, you're almost sort of hot in a geeky, power-monger sort of way," CJ said.

"Still harboring that crush on me, I see," Josh observed as he hung up his jacket. "Your broken heart will probably never mind, but I hope you'll be able to move on eventually."

"John Hoynes," CJ said firmly. "Did you read it?"

"His book?" he asked.

"No, his Tarot Cards," she sighed. "You didn't. And how I know you didn't is because this is your copy; it was on my desk for you to pick up last night and was still there this morning."

She dropped the hard-covered book with a thump onto his desk.

"I read it," Josh said. "Someone brought me a copy yesterday."

He refrained from saying it was sent over by one of the VP's aides the day before. He wasn't sure why he was withholding that information from CJ. He told himself it wasn't relevant to the discussion, but his lingering suspicions from the before were still gnawing at the recesses of his mind.

"Oh," CJ said mollified. "Well, let's hear it. I've gotten an earful of woe from everyone else just about this morning. Toby's boxers are in a twist about the chapter on how the Vice President saved gun legislation while preserving the Second Amendment; Sam is in an uproar to find that we supported vouchers but were talked back from the brink by Hoynes. I haven't heard from Leo yet, but I can tell you that…"

"Leo doesn't like anything that begins with John Hoynes," Josh nodded. "I know. I've been around for a bit."

"Well, okay," CJ huffed. "I just need to know what you think Hoynes's is doing with…."

"He's running for president," Josh said. "This is his preannouncement announcement. Don't sweat it. He's not bashing President Bartlet. He's walking on our stage for a bit, but we've moved on to other things. Let the VP's staff deal with the press."

"You trust him to be straight up about his record and our record?" CJ asked.

"Trust Hoynes?" Josh asked. The words from Hoynes in the copy of his book echoed for a moment.

"Me either," she said, mistaking his distant expression for agreement.

"What has Leo said?" Josh asked.

"Were you listening?" CJ answered. "I haven't spoken to him. I'm not sure I want to; I can only imagine what Hoynes insinuates. He might not be taking the President to the woodshed, but he's not tgoing to lose points in the press by going after Leo McGarry."

"He doesn't," Josh assured her. "The book doesn't mention Leo much, but what is said is… The Vice President says Leo has good judgment and tips his hat to him, so to speak."

"He does?" she queried. "What is wrong with you? Everyone else is wound up tight about this f and checking over their shoulders for invisible knives in their backs. Why aren't you?"

"Did you read the book?" Josh asked, grabbing papers for his meeting with Leo in several minutes.

"I did and I'm asking you what you read," she said, following him out of the room. "I mean, what did all that stuff about you mean to you?"

"Nothing," Josh shook his head. "It's Hoynes, CJ. He likes the sound of his own voice. He wrote about his view of recent history. That's all. I'm a part of his history."

"Yeah, but that was two elections ago," she continued as they rounded the corner and headed toward the Chief of Staff's office. "He's had a lot of time in between to make new friends, but he chose to spend a lot of time waxing nostalgic about you. That's a bit surprising seeing how the two of you aren't exactly friends any longer."

Josh sighed as they nodded casually to Margaret, who signaled they could go into Leo's office.

"CJ, do you think I really understand what John Hoynes is thinking?" he asked.

"Yes, she does and she's not the only one," Leo offered as they entered. "However, as we have a country to run here, the Vice President's current fascination with the guy who dumped his campaign before it really got started seven years ago isn't all that important to me right now."

"You want the names," Toby said from his spot on the couch. "I've got it down to five possibilities."

"Which names?" Josh asked.

"For the UN council," Toby replied, handing the list to Josh.

He read the names and stopped, as Toby was certain he would, on one of them. He looked at Toby as he reached it.

"Do you have a top recommendation?" Leo asked as Josh handed the list over.

"Number two," Toby said. "Sandra Kippling. She's our number two at the EPA and she's worked with State so she has both the environmental and diplomatic background."

"She knows protocol not negotiation," Josh shook his head.

"Who do you like?" Leo asked.

"Number five," Josh said. "Sam Seaborn."

"Is this your way of just getting rid of him?" Toby asked.

"It's your list," Josh reminded him.

"I put him on it as a way to get rid of him," Toby said. "He was in my office with his fruity coffee and for a moment I thought it would be nice to banish him to the UN basement."

"But you put his name on the list," CJ noted. "Does he know?"

"No," Toby said.

"He knows environmental law and…," Josh began. "Well, he's a terrible diplomat, but we aren't going to make friends with this thing anyway."

"You just redlined the EPA woman because she doesn't have diplomacy skills," CJ argued.

"He said it was because she knows what fork to use on the table but couldn't get talk the maître'd to give her a better seat," Toby corrected.

"You're for this?" Leo asked Josh in a serious tone. "It's not just because…"

"No," Josh shook his head. "If we can get one of our guys at the table talking to China with an idea about trade policy as well as humanitarian issues…"

"This is about clean air and clean water," CJ argued.

"It's about factories and who they are run," Toby offered. "Josh is right. This thing may not be serious right now, but it could be in the future. He's got the credentials and he's actually on our side… for now."

Leo nodded and said he would take it to the President.

*************

**DCOS Office**

**Tuesday afternoon**

Josh returned from his legislative meeting to find his assistant's desk empty. Marcie had sent him a tersely worded message on his Blackberry that he was certain that the White House counsel would disapprove of being sent over government communication devices. Still, he admired her succinct assessment of DC parking regulations and her vigor to fight what she felt were unjust tickets. He made a mental note to have Ed or Larry check whether she was in jail for contempt or other disorderly charges if she did not return by the time he left for the evening. Josh's thoughts were on what creative and filthy names she was going to call the ticketing officer as he entered his office and nearly walked into his wife.

"Hey," Donna yelped as she stepped back suddenly. "I'm not a mirage."

"Sorry," he apologized quickly as he stepped around her.

"That didn't sound very sincere, Josh," she nodded as she took a seat opposite his desk.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Your empathy for me has waned," she noted.

"Why are you here?" he asked. "You quit. Last week."

"I wasn't banned from the building," she replied.

"I mean…"

"I was going to the hospital, but then I sneezed," she said with a frown.

"And you felt the need to tell me this in person?" he asked.

"I can't go to see them today," she sighed. "I could have a cold."

"You don't have a cold," Josh assured her. "A single sneeze…"

"Until I know for certain, I can't visit my children," she continued as if she did not hear him.

"Your children?" he questioned. "I'm noticing more and more you are claiming them as simply yours."

"I have scars," she said tartly.

"So do I," Josh countered.

"Was your uterus cut open and two living creatures removed?" she asked.

"Obviously not," Josh said.

"Then stop being competitive about scars," she said.

"Okay, but let's get something straight, it's joint…. Well not ownership, but…," Josh attempted to argue, but let his words trail off as he observed his wife was no longer listening.

"I brought you clothes for tonight," she said, gesturing to the duffle bag on the floor.

"I'm not going anywhere tonight," he said. "I'm out of here by 6:30 and then I'm going to the hospital like I usually do. Last night was different because I had a thing with Leo. Tonight I'm back on the..."

"I know, but you shouldn't wear a suit when you go to the hospital all the time," she shook her head. "I don't want the kids to start to feel second-best. If you always show up in your work clothes, then they'll know you were at work first and begin to think…"

"That their mother is a lunatic," Josh muttered as his wife continued her explanation.

"…that you value your job more than your time with them," she said but caught the flash of hurt in his eyes that she quickly allayed. "Obviously, they would be mistaken, but they're young so you can't blame them for misunderstanding. That's why I brought you other clothes. Clothing that doesn't look like you're ready to staff the President will avoid any confusion when you visit them tonight. I put your blue polo in there, the one I gave you at Christmas."

"You mean to replace the one you stole?" he remarked as he pulled the bag behind his desk.

"I think you look good in this shirt," Donna said.

"Not worried the nurses will agree?"

"They know you're taken," she said.

"Okay," he nodded. "This was fun, a nice little trip down memory lane and whatever, but you haven't answered my question: Why are you here?"

"I have nothing to do," she sighed. "I'm useless."

"Go to the hospital," he encouraged her. "Let them decide if you have a cold. You can wear a mask or something."

"That would be selfish and irresponsible," she said in a dejected tone. "That's not very motherly. Speaking of motherly, your mother is officially here as of 8 this morning."

"I thought she was flying in on Friday," Josh remarked.

His mother had been finalizing her desired move to the guesthouse behind his home for several weeks. Her home in Florida was in the hands of a management company for the six-months she planned to reside with the family to assist Donna. Despite Josh's initial objections that she was too old to take on the job of a full-time nanny, he was glad his mother would be helping out. For all the arguments he made about competent, professional help available in the area, Josh found he was not willing to trust anyone with the welfare of his children other than his wife and his mother.

"She changed her plans," Donna said hesitantly. "She's at the hospital now, explaining to Noah and Jess why I can't be there."

"My mother takes the oxygen out of any room she enters," Josh said. "You do realize she's going to be referring to them as her babies shortly if she isn't already, right?"

"She's still using the word 'grand' in front of that so I think I'm still safely in the mommy seat," Donna replied. "You're her baby."

"I'm not a baby," he began.

"Accept it, Josh," Donna grinned. "Your mother lives with us now. You're her little boy, her baby, and your name is pretty much 'Darling' at home when she's around. Deep down you like it."

"I have three names, and none of them have the letter D in them," he shook his head. "She's just never given up her disappointment at not naming me David after her father."

"Well, you can take that up with her later," Donna said. "She's making dinner for us tonight after you get home."

"My mother is cooking?" Josh queried. "Why?"

"You've forgotten," Donna noted. "Is today special in anyway? Think back, Josh. A year ago…"

"Our anniversary is Saturday," he said. "I haven't forgotten; what are you referring to?"

"You admitted you were wrong for dumping me a year ago and whisked me a way to Greece in an effort to woo me back," Donna said.

"And my mother is cooking dinner for that?" he questioned suspiciously. "Alright, what aren't you telling me?"

"I've told you everything," Donna said evasively. "You mother changed her plans."

"Right, she flew in early," Josh nodded.

"That, too," Donna agreed.

"Donna?" he questioned. "What plans did she change?"

"She's living with us," Donna said. "In the carriage house, but essentially with us."

"It's not a carriage house and the plan was for her to stay with us for a few months," Josh disagreed with a rueful shake of his head, knowing this was a debate he would lose though he was right. Then he looked at Donna's guilt filled face and paused. "Wait. When you say she's living with us, you mean…"

"She signed a two-year contract with the management company for her home in Florida," Donna said. "She's renting her house to a woman named Helen Kirsh; she is the widow of…"

"One of my father's law partner's," Josh nodded his head. "Two years? She's living with us for two years?"

"For a start," Donna said. "Hey, you were the first one to say you felt better having her help watch Noah and Jessica rather than someone we needed to run a background check on. I told her that she should consider herself a guest with us and just do grandmother things. She said…"

"Of course," Josh nodded, quoting her precisely right down to the pitch. "Yeah, I'm familiar with her tactic of agreeing with you while doing precisely what she wants anyway. I grew up with it. Is that why you're here, to break the news to me?"

"It's not bad news," Donna said. "I'm happy she's staying. I've never seen her so excited."

"Yeah," he sighed and shook his head.

"And I told you, I'm here because I had nothing to do," Donna continued.

"That makes one of us," he replied. "If I had time, I'd gladly waste it with you, but right now I don't. Sorry, but you can't hang out here. I told you there was no reason to quit just yet. Now, I'm not one to tell you that I told you so."

"Since when?" she scoffed.

It had been a three-week long open discussion at home about whether she would remain working at the White House. Noah could be coming home in as little as two weeks, Donna felt. For that reason, she had decided—over Josh's well-meaning objections—to resign. Her children were going to need more attention than the average newborn because there were two of them and they had been born premature. Josh understood her desire to take care of them, but he thought she should hold off on her decision to leave work until they had a firm date for the homecoming. He had no objection to her being the primary caregiver to the children, he was just slowly adjusting to the inevitable: Marcie was now his right hand; the days of Donna keeping him on task and informed were over (as far as his career at the White House was concerned).

"I have a lot to do and don't have time for index cards and whining congressional staffers who want to bend your ear," she said under the weight of his appraising stare. "I have much more important things to do."

"Sitting in my office, keeping me from getting work done is pretty high on your list, I see," he replied.

"Lunch, Josh," she said. "I'm here for lunch. I called Marcie earlier. She said you had a cancellation so your schedule for lunch was clear."

"Why is she telling you my schedule?" he asked.

"Because it's not a security issue; I asked and she still likes me better than you," Donna answered. "You'll find that happens a lot with the people we both know. You should get used to it. Now, get your coat. I'm hungry for Thai food."

"I hate Thai food," he said though he stood and grabbed his jacket as commanded.

"Well, I don't and since I don't get heartburn from eating spicy food anymore, I'm eating what I want," she said. "It's your mother's idea, and she's a very wise woman whose advice I like. You can grab a salad at the place next door before you come back to work—that's her idea, too."

Josh had lunch with his wife away from the White House. He could not persuade her to go to the hospital. He yielded in his argument while picking at his food and trying not to inhale the odors too deeply. The best way to do this was to focus on her expression of anticipation that their son would soon be home. From the days of despair following their emergency entrance into the world, this change to anticipation for good things to happen was a welcomed change.

Josh had not questioned his relationship with his wife prior to her falling ill. He wasn't sure if the reason was that he had doubts about the resiliency of their relationship or if he was taking it too much for granted. Their marriage had been sudden and their relationship, since its beginnings, complicated. Things had been rocky at the start of the marriage and the stress of their working lives only multiplied those tensions. He had harbored concerns, in the deepest caverns of his mind, that her departure from his working world, as she scaled back her schedule during the pregnancy, that they would grow apart—as if the job was the thing that kept them together. Nearly two months after disaster nearly struck, he was no long worried about such things. In fact, though he was loathe to admit it, Donna no longer being his employee had been good for them. It forced them to talk to each other rather than banter about work.

He had always enjoyed her company, but he found he valued it much more now that it was not to be found a few feet from his desk. Parting from her to return to the place he formerly loved more than any other was now difficult. Their house in Georgetown was an actual home rather than just a place to lay his head at night. He still found his work at the White House invigorating, but it was new to him that it was not the only place he felt worthy of his attention and time. Once the children were home, he was certain he would be torn between the needs of both places. He would not be needed to help at home as much as he would have been if the children had come from the hospital as newborns. They would be several months old and already on schedules and have set routines. His mother would be on hand to help Donna (or, if Josh's worries were founded, mother her/muscle her out of the way and take over operations in the house). His place and duties in all this were simply to be there and be a part of things. His biggest tasks were to read bedtime stories and be certain they understood the infield fly rule by the time they learned to say: Go Mets.

Donna dropped him off on the corner of Pennsylvania Avenue after agreeing to drop the order that he have a salad for lunch and letting him grab a bagel instead. He wasn't pleased with the level of debate necessary to get permission to have food he wanted to eat. He was, in fact, mildly disturbed that he seemed to need permission at all. With troubling thoughts like this, he went back to work and made his way to the Oval Office for a meeting with the President. He waited in the outer office for him to finish his meeting with the UN Ambassador.

"You okay?" Charlie asked as he spied Josh staring in a perturbed way at his shoes.

"What?" Josh asked. "Yeah."

"You weren't in your office before, so I wondered," Charlie said. "Marcie said you left with Donna and I didn't know if something wasn't alright."

"My mother is choosing my lunch choices again," Josh complained. "It's a conspiracy between her and Donna to control every facet of my life."

"Okay," Charlie nodded.

"You'd think one of the upsides to having twins is that there is one for each of them to fuss over and not mess with me, but they still find time," he continued. "I'm out numbered in the estrogen category."

"And you honestly thought you had a shot at that one?" Charlie asked.

"Well….," Josh began.

"That's one of the things I like about you, Josh," Charlie said. "You're an optimist."

***********

**Lyman House**

**8 p.m.**

Josh entered the house to the scent of garlic filling the air. The lights in the hallway were on and light spilled from the kitchen as well. This was a change as much as the sound of music playing on the stereo in the living room. Voices sounded on top of the piano chords and drew him into the house.

"Are you passing take-out off as your own cooking?" Josh asked as he entered the room to find his mother and wife seated at the kitchen table with glasses of wine. "I can see the cartons on the shelf."

"Darling," Anna Lyman beamed as she stood and hugged him. "You look cold."

"It's 40 degrees," he said. "Do I look hungry, too?"

She shook her head and wagged a scolding finger at him then kissed his cheek.

"I've been warning my grandchildren about your sense of humor," Anna said.

"Lobbying my children to like you better," he shook his head as he caught Donna's eye. "Mom, that's low."

"She just got home herself," Donna said. "She went to Sachetti's to get dinner. For just moving in, she knows the town pretty well."

"I've lived here for 17 years," Josh said. "She has visited a few times."

"Because he so rarely came home to see me," Anna added.

"Ouch," he winced. "I walked into that one."

"You did so you must be tired," Anna said. "Sit. I was just telling Donna about my time with Noah today. He's a very handsome boy."

"Thank you," Josh said as he leaned over and kissed Donna's cheek then took a sip from her wine glass.

"This is something that I think is your fault, Anna," Donna said as he took a seat beside her. "Josh's ego is something I never worry about; I'm still on the fence if I should follow your lead with Noah."

The discussion rambled through the meal as Anna recounted her first day with her grandchildren since she last saw them weeks earlier before either of them could be held. She was beside herself with delight at how much they had changed and progressed in that time. Josh marveled at his mother's resiliency during this stressful time in which she contemplated burying the grandchildren she had dreamed of for so long and at her irrepressible elation about the signs that both babies would be home in a matter of weeks. Josh had worried that having her here and her desire to help would be too much for the elderly woman; however, watching her beam at the table, he was struck by how much younger she looked. The last time she had looked this way to him was prior to his father being told that his cancer was back nearly a decade earlier.

"Are you settled?" Josh asked his mother when she paused in her embarrassing comparison between Josh as a baby and her grandchildren.

"Enough for now," she smiled. "I notice that you haven't remarked upon my change in plans. I expected to hear a certain amount of bluster."

"Bluster?" he repeated and offered Donna an accusing gaze. "I just don't want you to get yourself into something that six months down the road you realize is…"

"Six months from now I am going to be busy planning a birthday party," she cut him off tartly.

"I don't like birthday parties," Josh reminded her.

"I wasn't talking about you," Anna replied. "I meant my grandchildren. My grandchildren will only turn one once and it deserves the proper celebration."

"We're the parents," Josh said slowly and with emphasis. "In case that shows signs of slipping your mind, we can have it put on a card or a hat or a bumper sticker to help you."

"You will be busy with your little political shenanigans," Anna said.

"Shenanigans?" Josh repeated. Donna stifled a giggle and buried her head on Josh's shoulder.

"Donna will be caring for two beautiful babies who will be mobile by that time," his mother continued. "You can't expect her to put together the sort of birthday party my two angels…"

"She doesn't mean us," Josh muttered as Donna fought hard not to laugh.

"… deserve," Anna rallied onward. "They are my only grandchildren at the moment…"

"If she starts encouraging you to get me drunk and take advantage of me, we'll know what she wants for Hanukkah," Josh remarked. His wife pinched him hard on the side.

"So I would like the honor of arranging the party," Anna said pretending she did not hear her son. "Nothing too extravagant, but as there are two of them, I would like it to be fitting for both of them. A generic birthday party is…"

"Like buying off the rack," Josh nodded and remarked facetiously. "A crime."

"Precisely," his mother agreed then noted the smirk on his face. "Donna, dear, have I ever told you about Joshua's first birthday? He kept running out of the room and hiding behind the curtains in the den whenever we tried to sing to him. He screamed and cried when Noah carried him back into the kitchen. Finally, we got him to stop fleeing. Of course, the moment we started singing again, he slapped his hand into the center of the cake and smeared all the words off it."

"I wondered when the character assassination would start," Josh shook his head as he began clearing the table. "Mom, did you know that Donna's mother never does that to her when I'm around?"

"What a fascinating detail, Darling," Anna nodded. "All the more reason why I should fill Donna in on your childhood—she can then tell her mother what a wonderful bonding experience it is so that Patricia can feel comfortable sharing similar details with you some day."

"Anna," Donna smiled. "Why weren't you a lawyer?"

"I was too smart and talented to waste my time in law school," she shook her head.

Donna watched as Josh, whose back was to them as he put dishes in the dishwasher, shook his head and refused to rise to the bait. Her husband's relationship with his mother was a source of wonderful entertainment for Donna. For all the grumbling and objections Josh might offer up front regarding his mother's attempts to insert herself or her will into his adult life, she was a source of comfort for him and his affection for her was obvious even through his snarky comments.

"Speaking of talent," Donna said. "Josh, have you been hearing the music?"

"It's on the stereo," he said. "Right? You can hear it too, can't you?"

"Yes," she said, tossing him a look that said she didn't find that joke funny. "I meant, do you know what it is?"

"Mozart," Josh said confidently.

"Very good," Anna nodded.

"Okay, but what I meant is: Do you know who it is?" Donna asked.

"Yeah," he nodded and looked at his mother. "It's her."

"You know that?" she asked.

"She's had this recording for years," Josh said. "You had it put on CD, I'm guessing."

"Yes, Darling," Anna said. "My good friend Peter Saltzman…"

"I'm sorry, who?" Josh asked. "You know, if you're going to do this robo-grandmother thing, your social life is going to have to take a backseat to your other responsibilities."

"Darling, you can give Noah and Jessica a curfew, not your mother," Anna smiled as Donna held up her glass in salute.

***********

**Corbett House**

**7 p.m. **

One week after his mother moved to Washington, Josh found himself doing something he had not done in months: having dinner some place other than his home or office. Josh ushered Donna up the steps at the Corbett house. It was a typical row house in DC. The handmade iron railings outside were rumored to be crafted out of surrendered bayonets from Confederate soldiers in Vicksburg. The ornate scroll work on the front of the house was typical of the period as was the heavily leaded glass in the massive front door. What was not typical of the other homes in the area was the level of security at the perimeter. Josh nodded to a Secret Service Agent he knew as they approached the door.

"Harvard and Dove on site," the man said into the mike in his sleeve.

"Alex," Josh nodded. "You guys are here, too."

"Yes, sir," Agent Alex Rodriguez nodded then smiled at Donna. "Good to see you Mrs. Lyman."

"Go Dodgers," Donna said softly, recalling that the man was as devoted fan to that team as her husband was to his New York one. The two were playing each other that night in pre-season—Josh had grumbled about missing it for the sake of this dinner.

"I heard that," Josh warned her.

They entered the home to the gracious and overly formal welcome of Leslie Corbett. There were a dozen other guests, senators, attorneys, a New York Times columnist, a banker and a Yale professor. The one who interested Josh most was the man locked in conversation with the Times columnist. He looked up as they entered and nodded in their direction. Josh directed Donna toward the senator and his spouse.

Dinner was the usual dull affair with some lively but controlled discussion of several pieces of active legislation. The senator bent Josh's ear on the latest amendments on the immigration bill and what he would be willing to concede in that context if he was given a little more leeway with the agriculture bill. It was an interest twist Josh was not expecting. His mind was spinning with the possibilities when he was asked by a butler to step onto the terrace for a discussion with one of the other guests.

"Josh," John Hoynes smiled as he puffed on a cigar. "If I recall, you're not a fan of these."

The Vice President tapped out the ash on his cigar and extinguished it.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Josh asked. His thoughts from the previous week returned to him as they had when he arrived and found the Secret Service guarding the house.

"Donna looks wonderful," Hoynes said. "I didn't expect to see both of you here. Leslie is ecstatic that she's going to lend a hand for the hospital fundraiser. It helps when you take on something so important to bring in people who know first-hand what it is you are working toward and what to do to make it happen."

Josh nodded.

"That's a really bad segue, John," Josh said, leaning on the stone railing of the terrace as he looked over the brightly lit city. "You need to do better if you're going to run again. Get a good communications director this time. It'll help you."

"Do you know what I like best about you, Josh?" Hoynes asked, joining him at the railing. "Your fearlessness. You say it like it is. That's rare in this town, as you know, particularly from a politician, particularly from a lawyer."

"I don't recall you liking it all that much," Josh said. "I was on the fence for a month before Leo ever came to see me when I was on your staff. You didn't want to hear what I had to say."

"Forgive me for not being as wise as I am now," Hoynes said. "I didn't realize what an asset you were until you left. Life is like that. It takes the most extreme circumstances to show you the light most clearly."

"I think being a good leader is not needing to reach those points before you can see the light," Josh disagreed.

"Not many people are that enlightened," Hoynes said. "You have the unfortunate fortune of having led a life that gave you a unique insight. That's why you are such a commodity in this town. Even the ones who can't stand you would love to have your brain wired into their staffers."

"That's disturbing on a sci-fi level," Josh shook his head.

"You didn't see the way the machine, those people who don't end up on TV but who make this town run, reached when you were shot," Hoynes said. "There was palpable concern everywhere and my office was no different. You and I do not always agree, but there was always respect on my part. Why do you think I worked so hard to beat you when I could?"

"Because you're a sonofabitch, sir," Josh said.

"Fair enough," Hoynes nodded. "Let me militate a bit of that. How are the kids?"

"They're fine," Josh said in a clipped fashion. "I didn't get to see them today because I had to be here."

"I'm sorry about that," the Vice President said. "That's my fault. I heard that Senator Callow was interested in talking and I said I could arrange this so he could reach out to you quietly."

"That all?" Josh asked.

"So suspicious," Hoynes shook his head. "I could talk to you anywhere at any time, Josh."

Josh nodded and drew a breath of the chilly spring air. He fell silent for several minutes. He was not being invited to leave Hoynes' company nor was the VP leaving him alone with his thoughts.

"Would you be able to leave that little boy and little girl for a campaign?" Hoynes asked. "I'm mentioning it because you're going to find another candidate at some point. It's what you do, Josh. It's what you thrive upon. They're young now and you shouldn't miss these earliest days. You don't ever get those back, but I have to wonder if Josh Lyman can sit on the sidelines while someone else decides what their future will be."

Josh said nothing. The thought was on his mind more and more. Striking the balance of his livelihood and time for his family was not difficult at the moment, but the Bartlet Whitehouse had expiration date, and Josh felt that his influence on the future was only as powerful as his job title. He needed to have a serious discussion with himself and with his wife soon, but he did not want to bring that burden into the house until after every member of his family was all residing there.

"Has Edgar Bailey called you?" Hoynes asked after several quiet moments.

"The chairman of the Connecticut party?" Josh asked and shook his head. "What's going on in Connecticut?"

"Maybe nothing," Hoynes grinned clapping Josh on the shoulder as he steered him back toward the terrace doors. "Well, there's no reason for us to be out here. If you'd like, I can get you out of here early without insulting anyone. Maybe you can get in to see your kids after all."


	25. Legal Advice

**Title: Heaven and Hell (**_**Chapter**__**25**_**): Legal Advice**

**Author: **Enigmatic Ellie (who promises to reveal her actual name when the series is over so that people will consider buying her novel(s) )

*****************

**Lyman House—6:30 a.m.**

Donna had been awake since 5 a.m. sifting through Noah's as yet unworn clothes to find what she would put on him for his first journey out of the hospital to occur later that morning. Noah, the doctors told her and Josh the previous afternoon, could go home. Josh did not see why what his son wore was overly important. It was going to be in the high 60s outside with bright sunshine and no discernable breeze. He would be outside for a matter of moments on a mild, nearly perfect day. Donna, however, began at dawn doing what she had started the previous evening after dusting the already spotless nursery and changing the sheets on the never used crib that would be Noah's: She sifted through the wardrobe of his tiny garments, running possibilities through an intricate (and as far as Josh was concerned insane) decisional matrix. Josh had not returned home until after midnight and found her in the clothing quandary. A quick and pointless argument ensued after he suggested to her that it would be wiser to get sleep and worry about fashion later. Under her scathing gaze and chilly, silent expression, Josh went to bed alone.

She had apparently forgiven him, he presumed, for when he woke just before dawn she was standing beside their bed asking for his thoughts on him four outfits she was again mulling over for their son.

"Which ensemble do you like better?" she asked brightly holding out two small piles of neatly folded clothing.

"Okay, whatever you pick, let's make one thing clear," Josh said through a yawn as he propped himself up on an elbow. "Nothing he wears will constitute an _ensemble_."

"I think the green will bring out his eyes more, don't you?" she asked, ignoring his request. "But the sleeves are short. It might not be warm enough for him."

Through bleary eyes half sealed with sleep, Josh said d either option was fine, but Donna shook her head and rejected them. What her rationale was precisely, he did not know. After two more repeats of the same process, Josh gave up participating in the endeavor. As he made his way to the kitchen, he spied light in the window at his mother's place, the so-called carriage house in the backyard.

He walked in his pajamas out of the house and across the patio then up the short stone path to his mother's front door. Before he could knock, the door opened. His mother was dressed for the day but her expression was guarded.

"Good morning, darling," Anna said. "I didn't expect to see you so early. Is everything all right?"

"What, she hasn't called you for fashion advice yet?" Josh asked as walked past her into the dwelling. "Consider this fair warning: Your phone might ring in a moment. If she asks, I'm not here."

His mother followed him back to her kitchen area and took a seat at the table where she had been sipping coffee. Rather than wait for an offer, Josh helped himself to a cup and sat at the table.

"I will not lie for you to your wife, Joshua," Anna said resuming her seat at the table beside him.

"What about to others?" he wondered. "Federal prosecutors? Congressional committees?"

"Do I need to?" she asked with interest.

"No," he shook his head. "And your answer is supposed to be no to both of those as well. Here's some free legal advice…"

"I am not taking legal advice from you," she interrupted.

"I'm a lawyer," he argued. "I graduated from Yale with a law degree. You were there."

"I recall," she nodded. "You were testy with your father and me for making you attend the ceremony."

"You're thinking of my graduation from Harvard," Josh yawned. "And it wasn't that I didn't want to go precisely, it was that…"

"I do not need to hear excuses now, Joshua," his mother corrected. "We were proud of you and wanted to see the formal presentation of your degrees. I recall your graduation from law school clearly, dear. I remember especially the beautiful briefcase your father and I bought for you that you have never carried."

"What does that have to do with not taking legal advice from me?" Josh wondered.

"Nothing," his mother smiled.

"You think I'm not smart enough to give you legal advice?" he asked. There was a poorly hidden tone of hurt and fear in his voice. Professional political operative, presidential advisor, Ivy League graduate, Fulbright Scholar, husband and father though he might be, his mother was still one of the few people on the planet who could level him to bits with disappointment. "I could work at any law firm. I could be a litigator if I wanted to, you know."

"Of course, darling," she assured him and pet his hand in a patronizing manner.

"I could," he said. "I passed the bar exam without any trouble for Connecticut and for DC. There's reciprocity for…"

"I recall how very smart you are, Joshua," his mother smiled.

"But you won't take legal advice from me," he observed. "Why?"

"Your father instructed me to never do that," she said.

Josh felt the deep bite of insecurity and the sting of dismay in his chest.

"Dad didn't think I would be a bad lawyer," Josh said though it sounded more like a question.

"Of course he didn't," she soothed him. "Oh, darling, I didn't mean it like that. Your father knew you were brilliant, and he believed you could do anything. To him, you were perfect every day of your life."

"Okay, good, that's right," Josh nodded mollified. "Then why did you say…"

"Your father had a firm rule about never accepting free legal advice," she explained. "He said if you accept it that you get what you pay for; it's very sound advice."

"And a justification for his hourly billing rate," Josh nodded as he looked toward the photo of the man in question.

The late litigator looked down from a silver framed picture at his wife and son with an agreeable smile. His father had been in his thoughts greatly over the last few months. His father would have been excited and proud to be a grandfather; he would have been rendered speechless (something that had never happened in Josh's memory) by having his grandson named after him. Josh could picture the look on the man's face clearly; what he could not imagine, he thought looking around the room in that instant, was his father living in the compact quarters his mother currently called home. There was nothing wrong with the place, but it did not compare to the home near the coast in Connecticut where Josh had grown up.

"You know, I don't mind having you live here, but you might be more comfortable in a place that is more…," Josh began.

"This carriage house is lovely," she said. "I love the craftsman style. It's so bright with all these windows that face the pretty garden. I think my new home is completely charming. It perfectly suits my needs."

"It's not a carriage house," he sighed. "Mom, it's a remodeled studio where a marginally corrupt elected official stashed his mistresses while his wife drank herself blind to the situation in the house. It would be fine for a short visit, but you won't be comfortable here for very long. Don't feel obligated to stay here."

"Do you want me to leave?" Anna asked.

"No," he answered quickly. "I just meant… Your home in Florida had a lot more room than this."

"Less space that I have to clean," she countered.

"You can afford a fleet of maids," he responded.

"I have never had a maid," she said tartly. "Are you insinuating that I am too old to…"

"Never," he said quickly, cutting off that dire argument which he knew would not end well for him. "I would never say that. I do not even use the word old when speaking to you."

"I should hope not, darling," Anna nodded. "Now, if we are finished with your efforts to get rid of me…"

"I'm not trying to get rid of you," Josh shook his head. "I meant that you don't have to do this. You can visit whenever you want. Mom, your job is to spoil them, and by that I mean do your level best to be liked better than Donna and I and tell us where we are making glaring errors in our attempts to raise them. You don't need to be on hand to take care of them every hour of the day. You don't need to…"

"I am here for my grandchildren to do whatever I am needed to do," she said firmly. "I will leave when I feel they no longer need me."

"Right," Josh agreed and fought the urge to smirk as he heard the finality in her voice.

"I also happen to like it here and my piano is being delivered next week," she said.

"You shipped your piano up from Florida?" Josh asked.

"Don't be silly, darling," she said. "I purchased a new one two days ago."

"Foolish me," Josh shook his head and looked at his father's photo again to roll his eyes. "You know, it's their choice if they want to learn to play piano."

"Certainly," his mother smiled brightly. "They can play violin if they prefer." She gestured to the stand where her violin rested silently across the room. "Now, why are you here?"

"No reason," he yawned. "I just thought I'd share that it is very possible that Donna is officially insane, but I put my foot down: Nothing Noah wears will be called an ensemble."

"Yes, darkling," Anna counseled. "Just be patient with Donna. She's excited and a bit nervous, darling. You are too, but you're too tired to realize it."

"I'm not tired," he said fighting another yawn.

"You got home late—much later than normal," she said. "I turned out the light at 11:30 and you still weren't home. Were you at the hospital all that time? Is little Jessica alright?"

"I was at the office," he assured her. "Jess is fine."

"Jessica is such a beautiful name; I wish you wouldn't shorten it," Anna remarked.

"She's too small to handle more than four letters right now," he offered.

"Joshua," she sighed.

"I'm too busy for more than four letters," he smirked. "You know, my life would have been considerably easier if you'd have proscribed to the basic rules of legal name versus nickname; I'd have had a better line on when you were slightly mad at me compared to when you were outright pissed off at me if you'd saved your usage of 'Joshua' for those moments when I was in really deep..."

"I am never angry with you, Joshua," she said crisply. "I do not always agree with you or appreciate your behavior."

"See, like right now, luckily my finely honed mother-meter tells me that you're probably not happy with my words," he said. "Of course, the only reason I know that is because I've got 40 years of experience helping me figure that out. I'm just saying, other people have parents who signal their anger or displeasure by using your full name, and it would have been nice for you to follow suit. Dad did. Whenever he called me Joshua, I knew I was in the danger zone."

"He only called you Joshua when he had lost patience and that never had anything to do with you," Anna explained. "That was his fickle temper more than anything. If your father was ever truly angry or vexed with you over anything more than a golf score, I'll change my name to Joshua."

Josh smiled and shrugged. His mother had been of the opinion all Josh's life that his father was incapable of finding fault with him. It was not true. They had had plenty of disagreements and locked horns quite often in his teenage years. Josh could recall many verbal skirmishes though most remained in his memory because he learned a great deal about arguing and winning from them, or more precisely, from losing them. By the time he was at Harvard, and getting into trouble with the Dean of Academics about getting a fish registered for classes, Josh was very good at winning most debates he ended up in (or muddying the issue sufficiently to get out of the battle mostly unscathed).

"That's beside the point," Josh said. "Look, you can call her Jessica if you like. I'll call her Jess until she asks me specifically not to."

Anna's face took on a softer expression. Her eyes were sad as she regarded her son with a great deal of compassion and sorrow. Josh saw this sudden change and knew what it meant: Donna had spoken with her the previous afternoon. The topic of discussion was what sent Josh retreating to White House in search of something he could fix as he was powerless to affect the circumstances plaguing his children. The same topic was truly the source of his argument with Donna the previous night. Their words were about Noah's clothing, but the anger and anxiety that fueled the emotion of the argument. Donna was upset by the doctor's latest assessment of their daughter and she was angered by Josh's adamant refusal to accept the man's words.

"Oh, darling," Anna sighed and pat his hand consolingly.

"No," Josh shook his head. "Don't you start, too. I heard it from Donna last night. You both can think whatever you want, but I am not being unreasonable. I am being completely reasonable. Look, I don't care what some doctor in California found in a research study; my daughter is not part of his study. He has never examined her so right now his report is not relevant."

Josh's mother fixed him with an understanding but stern gaze. Years of processing and surviving bad news had taught her patience and conditioned her to be strong. Her son was no different, but his emotional reactions to bad news was something that continually amazed her. She could never predict how he might react: anger, depression, denial.

"He's an expert," Anna said calmly but firm tone, not wishing to argue with him on this day. "The doctors who have examined Jessica happen to think he's the best man in the country on development problems with children born so premature."

"Well, they aren't recommending that she see any other specialists than those that are keeping tabs on her right now so whatever Doc Hollywood has to say doesn't seem relevant," Josh said. "Right now, the doctors who are treating her can't even say for certain that there is anything wrong, and that means…"

"I know she's perfect to you," Anna said in a solemn tone. "But she has not been dealt a perfect hand. You need to be prepared to hear that and to do whatever you can to see that she gets all the help that she needs. I know you would never deny her anything to make her well, but for your own sake, Joshua, you need to listen to what you are being told. There is a very good chance Jessica cannot hear. She may not ever learn to speak and she may have other learning difficulties."

Josh shook his head. It was the information he and Donna received the previous afternoon about their daughter's perceived development that sent Josh back to the White House in the evening looking to take his frustration and anger out on something governmental. It hadn't worked. He had found himself researching the studies of the expert the doctor's were quoting to him and Donna. Their daughter had experience more difficult than their son thus far, and considering his struggle in the first days, that was saying something. It was the periods of respiratory arrest and length of time it took for her kidneys and liver to function at accepted levels that were troublesome. With neither organ working fully for several weeks, the toxins the body produced were not cleansed from the blood well; that coupled with periods of her body not receiving enough oxygen had doctors concerned about brain development. Where her brother responded quickly to stimulus like voices, the little girl did not seem as aware. While it was too soon to determine if she would have hearing deficits or other deficits in cognitive function, the doctors wanted her parents to be aware of the possibilities and hurdles that lay in her future.

"She'll be fine," Josh said stubbornly though he had no reason to believe it was true.

"Joshua," his mother sighed.

"No," he shook his head and stood. "I don't want to hear it."

"I know you don't, but you need to hear it," she said.

"She can go to Harvard if she wants to," Josh said. "She doesn't have to and I won't love her any less if she doesn't, but I'm not counting her out because someone who has never met her wrote a report. I have met her. I know she's had a rough time so far, but that doesn't mean she's…"

"Donna doesn't want you to be disappointed," Anna argued. "She afraid you'll push Jessica and she won't be able to meet your expectations. Accept her for who she is, not for who you want her to become."

Josh said nothing. He clenched his jaw and stared at his hands. He wasn't angry with his mother or his wife, but he wasn't happy they were giving up so easily. He had argued with the doctors the previous day—telling them he rejected their offering and told them to come back with something better. Donna cut off the discussion and hauled Josh into the hallway to lecture him about the difference between a medical consultation and a legislative negotiation. Josh could understand why Donna was not arguing with the experts. She was simply pleased their daughter was out of the woods medically. The little girl had defied the odds and needed to do nothing more than gain a little more weight so she could come home in Donna's mind. Josh was not so easily assuaged. Yes, he wanted both his children to come home and start their lives, but he refused to accept that those things were the most they could hope for.

"Joshua?" his mother inquired as he fell silent.

Josh did not want to argue with her or anyone any further that day. He shook his head as he stood to leave.

We're bringing Noah home later," he said briskly as he made for the door. "That's what we're dealing with today."

He left his mother behind, angry with her for surrendering to medical opinions so easily and for raising the subject that morning. He was as mad at himself for snapping at her, but even more angered at the circumstances which made the conversation possible.

Josh returned to his house to find Donna beaming and proudly proclaiming that she had found the perfect ensemble. He bit back a comment about the word "ensemble" being used to describe anything his son was going to wear. The look of unadulterated joy and anxious anticipation on her face silenced him. As she was willing to put the disappointing report on their daughter the previous day behind her and the fight prompted by their mutual disappointment and anxiety, Josh was willing to follow suit. He did not like fighting with Donna. They did not do it often. There was plenty of debate on any number of issues, but that normally took the form of spirited banter. An actual argument was not normal and bothered him as much as he suspected it bothered her.

"I called Lorraine," Donna said, reporting her contact with the woman in charge of the nurses' station in the NICU on Saturday mornings (her knowledge of the nursing staff and doctors was as thorough as her knowledge of the House of Representatives had once been). "Noah is still sleeping. He had a good night—only one sock off the whole night. Dr. Melburn will be making rounds at 9 and Noah is his first patient of the day. Unless she has any reservations, we can take him home after that."

She smiled grandly and threw her arms around Josh then hugged him tightly. He held her tightly for a moment. Hearing genuine happiness in her voice and seeing the relief on her face was enough to sooth his taxed nerves and dull the lump of anxiety that had resided in his chest since his children's untimely and near-tragic arrival several months earlier.

"I'm going to pack his clothes," she said with delight in a tone that was one octave shy of a squeal. "I decided on the overalls with the red shirt. Oh, and his sneakers. I thought about the white booties my mother sent him, but I like the sneakers better. They'll be a little big, but it'll be fine."

"Worried about blisters?" Josh asked. "He doesn't walk yet."

"I'm worried about other injuries or mishaps," Donna said. "He can get his socks off and those fit snug on his feet. The shoes will be loose, but I'm certain could launch one of them and do who knows how much damage. We'll need to keep a close eye on him."

Josh nodded though he found it absurd. Donna smiled in return then hugged Josh one last time quickly and kissed his cheek before fluttering out of the room.

*******************

**Whitehouse Situation Room**

**10:22 a.m.**

The President leaned forward on the table and looked over the photos handed to him by the CIA director. They were satellite shots of a large and dense looking cloud floating over several concrete towers that maps indicated were outside Tbilisi. Bartlet sighed and dropped the pictures back on the table.

"There's no chance this is something other than what it looks like?" the president asked.

"No sir," Leo replied. "Tom, how old are these pictures?"

"Twenty-eight minutes," Tom Cavan, the chief spy said. "We're getting intel in that the core began to overheat and become unstable 11 hours ago. They thought they had it under control until there were multiple power failures—likely a cascade effect because of the pressure their mitigation measures."

"They didn't have redundancies for their redundancies?" Leo asked.

"Do we?" Bartlet asked.

"Yes," the Director replied.

"Alright," Bartlet nodded. "What about them?"

"They did," Cavan replied. "Those failed because of the cascading."

"Would ours?" Bartlet asked. A heavy pause filled the room. "Gentlemen, I'm asking because we don't know what started this. Before we go chastising or trying to send in the pros from Dover to fix this, I'd like to know why this happened and if it is likely to happen here."

Again, there was quiet.

"You're a smart bunch," Bartlet said. "I'm going to say the word that's on all of your minds now: terrorism. I'm asking, is this an act of terrorism and what is our preparedness for our own nuclear plants?"

The assurances flowed swiftly but not without some reservation for several moments while they waited for the next satellite pass. Bartlet also received briefings on the local and further reaching environmental fall-out from the meltdown half-way around the world. The health concerns for the near future and 10 years down the line were assessed. All the while the briefing continued, more information about the increasingly tense and dangerous situation. Plans were made for an emergency call to the UN as officials in Tbilisi were willing to accept international help as long as it was legitimately international and not just a group populated by Americans.

"You're talking to the Secretary General in 10 minutes," Leo informed Bartlet. "It's the lesser of the three plans we offered."

"No surprise there," the president shook his head. "We're set."

"Yeah," Leo said. "He's heading to New York now."

"This is the right choice," Bartlet sighed. "I don't like sending anyone into a situation like this."

"These guys are experts," Leo assured him. "It's the right thing to do."

"What about our plants?" the president asked again. "We're going to face a firestorm of questions. Congress is going to flay us on security if there is so much as a whiff of one inspection report showing a single plant not up to code or if a single report isn't sufficiently complete—and they'll be justified, but we won't get anything done on any other issue while they hold their war dance. Oil is about to have a banner week on the stock market and everything else is going to take a hit. I need my economic team in here and our best handlers for the Hill."

"Right," Leo nodded.

"Uh, minus one," Bartlet said. "Leave Josh out of this."

"You sure?" Leo asked.

"The Hill is a distraction at most right now," the president said. "We'll worry about politics on Monday. He's waited 4 months to have a normal day; we can let him have 48 hours of the two weeks of paternity leave we owe him."

"If this wasn't such a bad day, I'd bet you 20 bucks he's in here by noon anyway," Leo nodded.

"He's not watching CNN and neither is anyone else in his house today," Bartlet said confidently. "Leo, you've been in politics too long."

*******************

**George Washington Hospital**

**2:45 p.m.**

The planned two-hour checkout process for Noah Josiah Lyman was entering its sixth hour. What should have been a quick exam by Dr. Melburn instead was a protracted wait for the physician to arrive. Other patients in the NICU were not fairing was well as Noah and required the doctor's attention. As Josh and Donna's boy was not in need of urgent care, he was not considered a priority for other physicians in the unit. The delay kept his parents stepping outside to call in periodic updates and assurances to Josh's mother that they hoped to be home shortly. It also afforded them the opportunity to spend time with their daughter. Leaving her each day was difficult for both of her parents, but Donna confessed to her husband that leaving this day would be harder. At least, previously, when they left, her brother remained behind. Donna felt it was difficult to reconcile the joy of bringing one of them home with the regret of leaving one of them behind on her own.

When the time came to say goodbye, Donna's brave front crumbled. The nursing staff was understanding and promised to keep a closer eye than normal on Jess. They promised to keep her company and assured Donna that the little girl would not grow depressed with the absence of her brother. Through a mixture of smiles and tears, Donna carried her son from the NICU and carefully secured him in his car seat. She kept up a steady stream of admonishment for Josh to drive slower or more carefully as he drove the short distance home. Josh said nothing as his mother's advice about Donna's excitement and anxiety was still fresh in his mind.

They arrived home without incident. Noah had fallen asleep despite his mother's persistent whispered complaint during the ride that the radio was too loud (which resulted in it being turned off). The little boy awoke only when he was lifted from his car seat, resulting in Donna profusely apologizing to the baby. Josh locked eyes with his mother, who met them at the door. She offered him an understanding expression as she ushered them into the house.

"Welcome home," Anna said as Noah shrieked his disapproval at no longer being asleep. "Oh, that's a fine, strong voice you have, my little man. Your Nanna will telling you all about how hard it was for your daddy to find his inside voice very soon, I suspect."

"The nurses said yelling like this is good," Donna replied as Josh helped her off with her coat as she was not showing signs of releasing the baby. "So long as he doesn't do it for too long. It means he has good lung capacity—the way he can yell loud, not the fact that he yells."

"Hey, buddy, we get it," Josh said as the child continued to cry. "You don't like having your nap interrupted."

"Josh, please," Donna chided. "Daddy's just not used to having anyone but him be loud, Noah."

Whether he was simply finished with his fit or somehow understood that he had been asked to quiet down, the little boy ceased his caterwauling. Donna beamed, as though she was the miraculous cure. Josh said nothing. He wasn't certain anything he said would matter.

"Noah, this is your home," Donna said as she began walking down the hall. "I'm going to show you around and you can let me know if you like it."

"If he likes it?" Josh repeated. "If he doesn't, do we have to move?"

"You'll learn pretty quickly that Mommy is in charge here in the house and Daddy just thinks he's funny," she said. "Now, this room up here is what we call the living room. That is a fireplace, and you should not go near it. Now, if you look out this window…"

The tour continued for half an hour longer. Josh hung back and let Donna have her fun. Crazy she might be, but it was that off-beat side of her that often was the keeper of his own sanity. He hung back and let her conduct the orientation of the house for the little boy. The afternoon was quiet over all. Noah refused another nap. His refusal to sleep was accompanied by a desire to be the center of attention. He quickly had two women fawning over his every wiggle and gurgle and coo. Josh enjoyed the show for a while then offered to man the kitchen and make lunch while his wife and mother continued their intense vigil over the little boy.

There had not been this much activity in the house since he and Donna moved it, Josh believed. The activity, hushed though it was, made the house seem warmer and fuller than it had previously. Josh much preferred this to the oppressive silence that filled the house while his wife and children were in the hospital struggling to survive. Eventually, after the afternoon meal was a memory, Josh was granted several moments of time alone with Noah. He had no tour for the boy, but there was a baseball game on TV and Josh was certain an appreciation for the national pastime was more important than whether or not the boy liked the curtains in the dining room anyway.

"Okay, neither of these teams are the Mets, but you can glean the basics," Josh explained as he sat on the couch in his office to watch the TV. "Don't worry if you don't get it all figured out this time. It's a long season. Your mother isn't a baseball fan, but she can be swayed. I'm still not sure why she got Major League Ticket on our cable, but if it was a mistake on her part, I see no reason to tell her."

The game was slow and the stress and late hour of the previous day caught up with Josh. He did not recall falling asleep; however, at some point a bit later, he flinched when his eyes registered a brief snap of light. He stirred to find Donna leaning over him, lifting the snoozing baby from his chest.

"Was there a flash a second ago?" Josh asked.

Donna smiled guiltily.

"It was a cute picture: The men of the house hard at work," she said. "I couldn't resist. It's also proof that both of you think baseball is boring to watch. I intend to use that picture as evidence in the future."

Josh shook his head as she left with the sleeping baby proclaiming that he needed to wake up soon to eat. Josh shook himself further awake and registered that it was nearly 6 pm. He changed the channel to CNN out of habit. He shook his head as he stared at the screen, heard the commentator and read the crawl. He was out of his chair and grabbing for his suspiciously-silent Blackberry and car keys within moments.

******************

**Whitehouse—6:23 pm.**

Josh sped through the northwest lobby. He had tried and failed to raise Toby or Leo on the phone. Marcie was also unavailable. He had finally given in and tried to call Sam. That, too, ended in voicemail rather than a live person. His own deputies were unreachable as well. The halls were hectic for a Saturday night, which wasn't surprising considering the news. He made for the Chief of Staff's Office but was accosted by CJ.

"Hey," she said. "Did Leo call you?"

"No," he shook his head. "Half of the Hill has and every other reporter in the pool, but no Leo. Why is that?"

"They're reporters," she shrugged. "When no one's talking, they'll speak to anyone."

"I meant…," he began. "Never mind."

"Did you give anyone a quote?" she asked quickly.

"No, I just picked up my messages," he said. "Apparently, my mother strategically unplugged all the phones in the house before Donna and I got home. She turned off my cell as well. I haven't spoken to anyone; I'm playing catch up right now. Where's Leo?"

"He was just in with the President," she said turning toward her office. "I'm briefing the room in 20 minutes. Gotta go. Oh, how's everything at home?"

"Quiet," he said distantly as he headed toward the Chief of Staff's office.

Margaret met him in the doorway. She shook her head at Josh's inquiry about Leo's location. She believed he was heading to the mess for his long-overdue lunch some time ago. Josh took off in that direction. He was descending the stairs when a familiar voice ascending the stairs called to him.

"Josh," Leo said. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here," Josh replied. "Or did I miss a memo?"

"You're supposed to be home feeling useless while your wife and mother take care of everything for the kid," Leo remarked as he met his Deputy on the stairs. Josh stopped his descent and followed his boss back toward the man's office. "So I'll ask again: Why are you here?"

"I was useless at home because Donna and my mother are taking care of everything," Josh replied. "What's happening in Tbilisi?"

"Go home," Leo said.

"Leo, you should have called me," Josh said. "Half of DC did."

"We're monitoring things," he said gruffly. "If we need you, we'll call, but as you're not a nuclear physicist or an intel officer, I don't think that we'll have that need. Go home, turn your Blackberry off, ignore the TV and read your son a bedtime story."

"We watched a ball game earlier," Josh said off-handedly.

"How'd he like it?" Leo asked.

"He fell asleep," Josh shrugged. "Donna is encouraged by it."

"Ah, it was his first time," Leo shook his head. "He had a big day; he'll get the hang of it soon enough. Your father told me you fell asleep during your first World Series. You turned out fine."

"Thanks," Josh shook his head. "About the nuclear meltdown…"

"It'll be here in the morning, Josh," Leo said. "Go home. Tuck the kid in and make your wife dinner."

"My mother's making Donna dinner and my Blackberry is going to explode with all the calls and messages I'm getting," Josh said. "The Hill is going freaky with calls for…"

"I know," Leo shook his head. "We're handling it. Larry is…"

"Not your guy for this," Josh cut in emphatically. "Toby should be dealing with Gillett to keep the senate from getting bogged down in a pointless debate on nuclear energy or inspiring the House to start hearings about the reactors in this country. I'm guessing we've offered our experts go over there to help?"

Leo nodded in agreement as he put on his glasses to read the message Margaret sidled up to him to deliver.

"Is CJ going to make a firm statement to the press that we are closely following the situation, but that the UN is stepping in to monitor and oversee things on the ground?" Josh asked. "Of course, before that, you have to get the UN to agree to step in and monitor things on the ground: inspectors, specialists, those guys with the radiation suits."

"That's a good idea," Leo said in a detached way as they entered his office.

"You already thought of that?" Josh wondered.

"Yeah," he nodded.

"Did they agree?" Josh asked.

"We had that call this morning," Leo said sitting at his desk. "We suggested UN send their experts; they sweetened the offer and added in the newly tagged members of the environmental advisory council to help monitor."

"The UN is sending lawyers to deal with a nuclear meltdown?" Josh questioned. "That'll be helpful."

"The council will accompany the scientists," Leo said. "Tbilisi has four members on the council. They have signaled that they like the idea—to a point. They'll let the scientists and clean up crews in to assess the situation if their council members comprise three-fourths of the reporting body."

Josh gaped for a moment then shook his head.

"They want to skew the findings so they don't get in trouble with…," he began in an exasperated fashion.

"We agreed," Leo said cutting off his anticipated rant. "This is about getting the experts on the ground quickly. We'll know what's happening. Six council members: four from Tbilisi, one from France…"

"That's predictable," Josh sighed.

"And one from the US," Leo continued. "Our guy got on the plane to New York four hours ago. He's going to lead the reporting team. The President trusts him."

"Who is it?" Josh asked.

"Sam," Leo replied.

"Sam who?" Josh questioned then recalled Toby's recommendation for the UN environmental council. "Sam Seaborn?"

"Yeah," Leo nodded.

"Sam works for the White House," Josh said.

"Not any more," Leo said. "He resigned so he could be appointed to the council."

"He doesn't know anything about a nuclear plant meltdown," Josh said hotly. "He doesn't even know what to do when his car over heats."

"We didn't ask him to cool down the core," Leo growled. "The President was hesitant to put him on the council when it was just an administrative body that was going to spin its wheels and get snared in international red tape, but this happened and we needed someone whose good with environmental law, understands the international situation and who we can trust."

"But Sam?" Josh repeated. "It's dangerous over there right now, isn't it?"

"He'll be with security forces and the scientists," Leo said. "He'll be fine."

"Was he asked or ordered?" Josh inquired aggressively.

"He was asked," Leo said sternly. "Just like I asked you to go home. Now I'm ordering. Josh, we've got this covered. Go home. If we need you, we'll call."

Josh nodded and reluctantly began to leave.

"I recommended that we put him on the council," Josh said.

"I know," Leo nodded. "Toby did, too."

"Toby did it because he was pissed that Sam kept going on about that coffee place he likes," Josh replied.

"And you?"

"I don't know," Josh said with a weak shrug.

He met Leo's eyes for a moment then looked away. He knew he recommended Sam for the council, in part, because Sam did understand environmental law but Toby had questioned the Deputy Chief about whether his motives were so pure. Josh had not given the question much thought at the time. Now, those thoughts screamed at him. He sighed as his head filled with guilty doubts. He then hung his head as he began to leave; however, he halted his exit when he heard his name called by his boss.

"Josh?" Leo asked. "How is everything? You said you watched a game, so your little guy is home okay?"

"Yeah," he nodded and smiled unconsciously. "Donna let him decide if we can keep the house. Fortunately, he likes the place so we're staying."

"Lucky," Leo nodded. "And the girl?"

"Still up in the air," Josh reported. "Maybe a couple weeks if all goes well, but the doctors say…"

The heavy feeling in his chest returned and tugged the smile off his face. The other cold and harsh thoughts that were digging at his mind flooded silently into his expression.

"What is it?" Leo asked, sensing as much as seeing the trouble in his deputy. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Josh shook his head quickly recovering his composure.

"Josh?" Leo asked. "What do the doctors say?"

"The planet is having a nuclear meltdown, Leo," Josh said as he waved off the man's concern. "Now isn't the time for…"

"We've got people dealing with that other mess," Leo said. "What are you dealing with?"

Josh met his eyes and considered making a vague comment to extract himself from the discussion, but there was something in his boss's expression that let him know such a response wouldn't be believed. Josh also felt it would be inappropriate.

"They think she's deaf," Josh said coldly, hating the possibility as he spoke it aloud for the first time. "It's either that or she has significant hearing deficiencies. That opens the door to a lot of other possible… issues. The kidney and breathing problems she's had might have, you know, caused damage."

"Damage?"

"To her brain," Josh said quietly and with difficulty then physically shook the dark thoughts from his mind. "She struggled a lot more than Noah did. It's still too soon to actually know anything or do any determinative tests. They're just basing it on the fact that she doesn't seem to react to sound the way they want or expect. I told them that…. I mean, I'm sure she listens when I talk to her. You, maybe she finds everyone at the hospital and what they have to say boring. I mean, she might just be thinking about other things in her head."

"Yeah," Leo nodded sagely. "Yeah, kids can be funny like that."

"That's what I said," Josh agreed feeling the ache in his chest ease off a bit.

"It's probably best if you just wait and see," Leo said. "Listen to what the doctors tell you. They can be wrong. Mallory is a prime example. They were completely wrong about her."

"They thought she was born deaf?" Josh asked.

"No, they thought she was a boy," Leo shrugged. "To their credit, that was up until she was born. After that, the question was cleared up pretty quickly."

Josh laughed briefly then bit his lip. Laughing about Mallory, even at her father's good natured instigation, was unwise.

"You keep talking to her," Leo said. "It can't hurt."

"Yes, sir," Josh nodded grateful for the man's counsel. "So, you'll call if…"

"We'll need you to deal with things on Monday," Leo said. "Stop worrying about Sam. Go home and enjoy the relative quiet. Tell Donna I said congratulations on the homecoming, and don't give up on that little lady. Girls have a way of surprising you."

Josh did as he was told and left the office. He drove home through the darkening streets in a muddle of thoughts both far and near to his home. Leo's calm assurances about Jess were calming, but his worry about Sam would not abate. He was torn between the comforting feeling about hope for his daughter's future and his upsetting worry about his friend's current assignment. That he still considered Sam a friend was a revelation. He was angry with himself for holding his grudge against the man for so long. Josh knew how fickle and fleeting life could be; things could change swiftly and without warning.

He entered the house to find the first floor dark. He peered out the back window. Lights were on at his mother's place and her new Mercedes was parked in the back where it had been when Josh left several hours earlier. After locking the door and setting the alarm, he climbed the stairs to find Donna watching TV in their room with the volume low.

"Where's Noah?" he asked.

"In his crib," she answered. "I didn't expect to see you until later. The news is reporting that the…"

"Yeah, the UN is putting people in to take care of things," Josh said. "They sent Sam."

"Sam?" she asked, sitting up straighter.

Josh nodded and looked at her with a gaze full of the guilt he felt. He hung his head and sunk his hands into his pockets.

"Last week the President was asking for a short list for the UN environmental council," Josh explained. "Toby had five names. Sam was one of them. I told Leo… I said to put him on the top of the list."

"Because he was the best choice or because…," she asked.

"I don't know," Josh shrugged as he felt his throat tighten. "He was certainly qualified for legal and policy guidance. I never…"

Donna sighed as she crossed the room and embraced him. She did not think he would have put Sam in any danger on purpose. His residual anger toward the man, she always assumed, was a venting of his anxiety over what had happened to her and the children. He felt betrayed by Sam's actions months ago and his disappointment had not had a chance to fade before the next personal crisis crashed into his world. Sam was, despite Josh's protracted silence toward the man, Josh's best friend. His trust in the man had been severely bruised but it had not been destroyed.

"He'll be fine," Donna assured him. "This is just another business trip. You'll see. He'll be back in a few weeks and bothering Toby about punctuation and coffee."

"No," Josh shook his head and sighed. "He had to resign to do this."

"You didn't send him to Tbilisi," she said firmly. "Look at me, Josh. You didn't send him anywhere. The President chose him because he was the one he trusted to do this job. You suggested he should be at the top of the short list. You are one of President Bartlet's closest and most trusted advisors. You would not tell him to put Sam on the council just because you were mad at him. You take your job too seriously and you respect the President too much to do something like that. You just said it: Sam was qualified. Leo and the President agreed with you. Toby is the one who put his name on the list to start with. Sam agreed. You did nothing wrong. You feel guilty because you are a good man who is worried about a dear friend. When Sam is back, and he will be, you can tell him that you forgive him and that whatever happened in the past doesn't matter."

She embraced him again to soothe pain she could see in his eyes. After several moments of silence, she released him and inspected his expression. The uncertainty was still there but not as bold as when he entered the room.

"Go say good night to Noah," she suggested. "He's still awake; I can hear him on the monitor."

"I'm surprised you didn't camp out on the floor in his room," Josh noted.

"Dr. Melburn said not to and not to bring him in here," she said. "He's already on a schedule and we shouldn't mess with it so that he has an easy adjustment."

"You've been peaking in to check on him every time you heard a noise on the monitor," Josh ventured.

Donna nodded guiltily though she smiled.

"He's settled down but not really asleep yet," she said. "Go in and say good night."

Josh agreed but grabbed the monitor's handset off the nightstand on Donna's side of the bed. She looked at him questioningly as he did so.

"Guy talk," Josh said. "No eavesdropping; don't worry, my mother assures me that soon enough you'll be able to hear clear through walls and closed doors just like she can."

HHhhhhH

*********************

Communication's Bullpen

Thursday afternoon

Charlie sat on the edge of Ginger's desk and waited while Toby leaved through the final pardon list submitted by the White House Counsel's office. Charlie had been asked to bring it, with any comments from the communication's director, to the President that afternoon. Toby, based on his expression, was not pleased with some part of the list. As the president's aide waited silently and patiently, Josh entered the bullpen.

"Hey Charlie," he said. "Does Toby have the…"

"He's looking at it now," Charlie replied. "He's been huffing for 10 minutes. I think one of the names displeases him."

"In what way?" Josh asked, surveying the speech write as he massaged his brow and scowled.

"Well, he hasn't yelled, but I'm not sure that means what I think it means," Charlie replied. "Since Sam left, Toby yells less. I think he lost half his voice; apparently it was the loud part."

Josh nodded. There had been no direct word from Sam though reports received through the US Ambassador to the UN were positive. The situation in Tbilisi was no longer dire, but merely the absence of fear that the damaged tower would no longer explode wasn't a rectification of the environmental disaster.

"What's your timeframe?" Josh asked.

"The President has time this evening to go over the list with the comments," Charlie said. "He's having dinner with the First Lady tonight so they can discuss not going to Camp David for July 4th."

"And he wants something to do after he loses the… discussion," Josh wondered.

"I wouldn't put it that way," Charlie said though he nodded definitively.

"I'll shake the list loose," Josh said and dismissed Charlie as he entered the speech writer's office.

Toby scoffed and huffed again as he scrawled notes on the margin of the document.

"You're supposed to type up your notes," Josh said, sitting on the couch near the wall.

"This is a copy," Toby growled. "I'll do my write up when I'm finished. I can't believe this."

"The one for the California woman who got convicted of identity theft after she got a marriage license for herself and her partner?" Josh asked. It was among the top three asinine justice foul-ups on the list, he felt.

"No," Toby said tensely. "This is the list of ones we're rejecting. There's this one… I… I understand that it was New Jersey, but…"

He handed the list across to Josh. He had seen only the sifted list of those who were being recommended for pardons. Sam had been vetting the list this time. Josh had done it two times previous and was glad to have the bulk of the work passed off to someone else while he focused on the other 8,000 priorities in his job.

Josh skimmed the pages in front of him and Toby's maniacal scribbles. He reviewed the case details and the recommendation, along with the reason for rejection. Josh got through the first part and raised his eyebrows.

"Wait, he went into an IHOP and…," Josh began.

"Yeah, the robbery was in progress and to save his own life he…," Toby elaborated. "It was a case of an idiot exercising bad judgment."

"I'll say," Josh nodded. "According to his statement, he was going to IHOP to have a steak. I thought they only served, you know, pancakes."

"Apparently not, but if your point is that a criminal mastermind this guy is not, then I agree," Toby shook his head. "I'm putting him back on the list."

"You can't," Josh said. "He held off the cops with a weapon and the kid at the register nearly died because she almost didn't get help in time. This guy is the reason for that."

"His weapon wasn't loaded," Toby argued. "He didn't know that. He only knew that the two guys robbing the place took his car keys and pointed a gun at him and told him to stand at the door way to hold off anyone who tried to come in or they would shoot him."

"You just said the magic words: They handed him a gun," Josh said. "Toby, the guy participated."

"He didn't know what was happening," he argued. "Josh, the guy thought he was going to die. What should he have done different?"

"I don't know," Josh shrugged. "But a 16-year-old girl almost died because he was holding a gun and didn't have a better idea. He didn't make a choice but he wants us to get him off the hook? No. We can't. We're trying to push the Victim's Bill of Rights, Toby. We start pardoning guys who created a high profile victim, and I can't do anything with that on the Hill."

"I would think that not being able to push that would be a help," Toby offered. "To you, anyway."

"What does that mean?" Josh asked.

"It's election time again," Toby said.

"The mid-terms are months away," Josh replied.

"The General Election is two years away," Toby said in a low, calculated tone. "Now is the time for exploratory committees for those who don't know if they have a shot or the time to begin locking things up if you do."

"Yeah," Josh nodded. "So?"

"So you met with Hoynes," Toby said. "Are you making plans? Or would you tell me if you were?"

Josh said nothing. It had been a few weeks since his uncertain meeting with the Vice President. Hoynes had not contacted him since, but Josh was waiting for a second meeting. The man was playing a game, Josh knew. He was giving his former political director space and time to think and to be with his family; it was a ploy to convince Josh that he understood and cared about his current predicament with his family. As he had not spoken of it to anyone, Josh was not aware that Toby knew about the meeting.

"The Vice President is going to run," Toby said. "He should be culling the best political minds for his team and he is not. Or, that's how it looks. I know that you had dinner with him recently."

"I went with Donna to the Corbett's," Josh replied. "I didn't know Hoynes would be there. The dinner was for Leslie Corbett to get Donna to help her with something for the hospital."

"If you believe that, you should work for Hoynes," Toby said.

"I have a job right now," Josh said. "I don't have time to run all over the country trying to make people forget that John Hoynes is John Hoynes so they'll vote for him."

"Are you out entirely?" he asked. "I know that right now you're… busy at home, but in a year those calls you get every few months are going to start coming every week."

"You're getting calls, too?" Josh asked. He knew the answer was yes.

"Of course," Toby said. "But they're not the calls you get. They don't want me to run the show. Josh, as much as it pains me to admit it, the Democratic Party needs you. If you pack it in with this administration, we are lost. Don't get me wrong, I think you are only a fraction as smart as the leaders of the party do, and I personally fear about leaving you to your own devices; however, you are among the best we have right now which, while sad and worrisome for us, is also a fact."

"Gee, Toby, I feel so special," Josh quipped.

"Edgar Bailey has been talking a lot," Toby said.

Josh was startled by the shift conversation. How the head of the Democratic Party in Connecticut was connected to a discussion about John Hoynes was lost on Josh. The Vice President had mentioned the man as well, but he had never explained why.

"Edgar Bailey?" Josh repeated, surprised by the reference. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"He gave three interviews in the last month," Toby said and drew a folder out of his desk drawer. He briefly leafed through the clippings. "They appeared in Connecticut papers and he went on the news in Hartford; your name came up, a lot."

"Why do you have them?" Josh asked, pulling to articles across the desk to read.

"I'm the communications director," Toby said dully in a low voice. "It's my job."

"To read news in Connecticut that has nothing to do with the White House?" Josh asked. "We need to get you a hobby."

"These have to do with one of the President's closest advisors, you," Toby replied, dragging the clippings back.

"Me?" Josh questioned. "I talked with Bailey a year ago for five minutes when I was in Westport for that thing with Chris Dodd."

"Yeah," Toby nodded. "Your hometown."

"So?" Josh asked.

"Local boy," Toby said. "Big name in politics. Fancy degrees from Ivy League institutions."

"The word elite becomes a curse during election cycles," Josh said. "Whatever Bailey wants, I'm not going to help him. He's a hairdo; there's no muscle in Connecticut politics. Lieberman is a joke—he's a Democrat the way that I'm a Republican. Whatever Bailey is looking for help with…"

"Candidates," Toby told him though from Josh's reaction, he suspected the man knew. "He's looking for a candidate to take a seat in the House or, as you just stated, to take the joke out of the Senate. You poll well."

"I what?" Josh asked as Toby handed him a report. "Who did this?"

"I did, before the last election," Toby replied. "I told Leo that I wasn't sure I could fix a nation that held you in any positive regard. There are updated numbers, but the data isn't as scientific. The bottom line is that they like you in Connecticut, which makes me worry about them, but that's not my point. Bailey is thinking small; Mich Holbrook is vulnerable in your hometown."

"I know," Josh said. "So?"

"So he represents the district where you grew up," Toby replied. "You grew up in a Republican District that is now leaning in the other direction."

"Does Bailey want the seat?" Josh asked. "If I'm not leaving the White House to help John Hoynes, I'm certainly not giving it up to get a congressman elected in Connecticut. Besides, Bailey can't win. They don't like him."

"No," Toby said. "They like you. Bailey is starting chatter because he wants you to go back and run."

"Me?" Josh scoffed. "Work in Congress? Is he smoking crack? I can't be elected."

"The polling data says otherwise," Toby explained.

"I'm not running," Josh said. "I don't live in Westport anymore. I live in Georgetown."

"The schools in Westport are better than the schools in DC," Toby replied. "Crime rate is better, the stores are…"

"Stores?" Josh questioned. "What do I care about… Toby, I'm not moving back to Connecticut so that I can live in DC while my family stays in New England. My kids don't even speak yet so schools aren't an issue right now."

"Donna isn't researching that yet?" Toby asked. "I find it hard to believe she isn't."

"There's a Friends' school she likes," Josh admitted.

"Quakers," Toby nodded. "Private school."

"If we fix public schools before they get to first grade, we'll reconsider," Josh said.

"Private school is a better bet," Toby sighed. "It'll look better on their applications to Harvard."

"Yeah," Josh nodded. "I mean, wherever they go to college."

"I heard that guy from State that you know, Mark Reed, sent you and Donna gifts for your kids," Toby replied. "Harvard Class of 20-something or other."

"Yeah, well, he gets married a lot so I don't pay too much attention to him," Josh said. "Donna doesn't want me talking about college. She's afraid it will put pressure on him."

"Him?" Toby inquired. "Donna's afraid your son isn't up to Harvard but your daughter is?"

"Something like that," Josh said, looking away. "I'm not interesting in being part of the freak show on the Hill we call the House of Representatives."

"No, you're not because you're smart," Toby agreed. "Bailey is a moron."

"Agreed," Josh nodded.

"He's thinking too small," Toby continued. "If you're going to do this, you should take on Lieberman. You debate better than he does; your most liberal views are reserved to education and gun control—two topics that are more that are more than acceptable to the moderate and conservative voters in Connecticut. You're a native of the state and you have something of a rock star status…"

"A what?" Josh scoffed.

"It's Connecticut, don't let it go to your head," Toby said gruffly. "My point is, you have a shot. You have name recognition, the right education, the right resume and helpful pedigree. Your father was a high-priced New York City lawyer; your mother was a beloved music teacher."

"Did she tell you that?" Josh asked. "I had friends who took lessons from her who had other names."

Toby plowed onward as though he did not hear the interruption.

"People with money who have a social conscience or desire to appear to have one, feel that Lieberman is actually a Republican but hasn't been outted yet," communication's director continued. "You have high level security experience; your face is the one in the Oval with the President and his national security team for the last few weeks. Add to that a pretty wife and two small children and this makes for a very attractive picture on the campaign trail."

"Until the story about me being a head case comes up again or anyone one of 530 members of congress start reminiscing about the various words I have used in expressing my displeasure with them on various occasions," Josh nodded.

"You were shot by would-be assassins," Toby explained. "A campaign to attack you as unstable because of your recovery would die swiftly. That story broke before the last election; this polling data I have was taken after that. As for your often heard opinions of Congress, that is probably more in-line with what the rest of the nation thinks. Your colorful way of expressing it will probably cinch the 18-29 demographic for you."

Josh shook his head. The discussion wasn't even funny it was so insane.

"Are you bringing this up to make a point or have you lost your mind for real?" Josh asked. "I know Sam's gone for the moment, but if you're getting lonely and need human contact you can come down to my area and talk to Marcie. She does a good impression of human if you catch her after her second cup of coffee or just after lunch usually."

Toby raised his eyebrows and stashed the news clippings and polling data back into his drawer. He fixed Josh with an appraising stare.

"I live in Georgetown and I like it there," Josh said to the unspoken question. "I'm no one's candidate for anything, unless its Commissioner of Baseball and I'm pretty sure that's just a weekend job when you really get down to it. I'm also not interested in being Hoynes' guy again. I've got work to do here right now. If something better than what we've discussed today comes up, then…"

"You heard the field so far?" Toby asked. "Hoynes, Dodd…"

"Dodd won't go anywhere," Josh shook his head. "What about Daschel?"

"Possible, but he doesn't have the money, or rather he does, but he owes it to the government," Toby shook his head.

"The taxes thing?" Josh asked. "I thought Davison said he fixed that."

"He did by ignoring it apparently," Toby shook his head. "Landrieu has a shot."

"No she doesn't," Josh said. "She'll create some excitement in the primaries, but Hoynes will smoke her on energy policy."

"He does have name recognition and the appearance of foreign policy experience," Toby suggested.

"Hoynes is a rotten administrator and his foreign policy credentials are little more than photo ops," Josh said.

"There's Kyle," Toby offered and watched Josh carefully.

"The governor of North Carolina?" he asked. "Randy 'that's an adjective for my sex life as well as my first name' Kyle? No."

"He's never been in a scandal," Toby said.

"I've heard enough stories about him to make you think he's been in several," Josh commented.

"His wife is the academic dean at a prestigious university," Toby continued.

"His son Steven hates him," Josh said. "Any man whose son hates him with that much of a passion has got issues."

"Yeah," Toby nodded. "But if you're not packing up and going to Connecticut, then one of these folks is going to call you. One of them needs to win or we'll be stuck with the governor of Florida as the next president. If you want your kids to grow up in the dark ages, then by all means stand on the sidelines."

Up next: Chapter 26--** Post-Partisan Depression**


End file.
